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THE SANDMAN’S 
HOUR 


Books by 

ABBIE PHILLIPS WALKER 


TOLD BY THE SANDMAN. Illustrated 

SANDMAN TALES. Illustrated 

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR. Illustrated 


HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK 



Stories for Bed time 



Harper <3 Brothers, Publisher^ 



17- UG44- 



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The Sandman's Hour 

Copyright, 1917. by Harper & Brothers 
Printed in the United States of America 
Published June, 1917 

e-r 


JUN 1 1 1917 

©CI.A467388 







CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Where the Sparks Go 3 

The Good Sea Monster 7 

Mother Turkey and Her Chicks 11 

The Fairies and the Dandelion 16 

Mr. 'Possum 20 

The Rooster That Crowed Too Soon 25 

Tearful 29 

Hilda’s Mermaid 34 

The Mirror’s Dream 40 

The Contest 45 

The Pink and Blue Eggs 50 

Why the Morning-glory Sleeps 55 

Dorothy and the Portrait 59 

Mistress Pussy’s Mistake 64 

Kid 67 

The Shoemaker Rat 73 

The Poppies 76 

Little China Doll 81 

The Disorderly Girl 84 

The Wise Old Gander 88 

Dinah Cat and the Witch 94 

The Star and the Lily 99 

Lazy Gray 103 

The Old Gray Hen 107 

The Worsted Doll 112 



THE SANDMAN’S 
HOUR 




















WHERE THE SPARKS GO 

O NE night when the wind was blowing and it was 
clear and cold out of doors, a cat and a dog, 
who were very good friends, sat dozing before a fire- 
place. The wood was snapping and crackling, making 
the sparks fly. Some flew up the chimney, others 
settled into coals in the bed of the fireplace, while 
others flew out on the hearth and slowly closed their 
eyes and went to sleep. 

One spark ventured farther out upon the hearth 
and fell very near Pussy. This made her jump, 
which awakened the dog. 

“That almost scorched your fur coat, Miss Pussy,” 
said the dog. 

“No, indeed,” answered the cat. “I am far too 
quick to be caught by those silly sparks.” 


I 


4 THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 

“Why do you call them silly?” asked the dog. “I 
think them very good to look at, and they help to 
keep us warm.” 

“Yes, that is all true,” said the cat, “but those 
that fly up the chimney on a night like this certainly 
are silly, when they could be warm and comfortable 
inside; for my part, I cannot see why they fly up the 
chimney.” 

The spark that flew so near Pussy was still winking, 
and she blazed up a little when she heard the remark 
the cat made. 

“If you knew our reason you would not call us 
silly,” she said. “You cannot see what we do, but 
if you were to look up the chimney and see what 
happens if we are fortunate enough to get out at the 
top, you would not call us silly.” 

The dog and cat were very curious to know what 
happened, but the spark told them to look and see 
for themselves. Pussy was very cautious and told 
the dog to look first, so he stepped boldly up to the 
fireplace and thrust his head in. ~He quickly with- 
drew it, for his hair was singed, which made him cry 
and run to the other side of the room. 

Miss Pussy smoothed her soft coat and was very 
glad she had been so wise;, she walked over to the 
dog and urged him to come nearer the fire, but he 
realized why a burnt child dreads the fire, and re- 
mained at a safe distance. 

Pussy walked back to the spark and continued to 


WHERE THE SPARKS GO 


5 


question it. “We cannot go into the fire,” she said. 
“Now, pretty, bright spark, do tell us what becomes 
of you when you fly up the chimney. I am sure you 
only become soot and that cannot make you long to 
get to the top.” 

“Oh, you are very wrong,” said the spark. “We 
are far from being black when we fly up the chimney, 
for once we reach the top, we live forever sparkling 
in the sky. You can see, if you look up the chimney, 
all of our brothers and sisters, who have been lucky 
and reached the top, winking at us almost every night. 
Sometimes the wind blows them away, I suppose, 
for there are nights when we cannot see the sparks 
shine.” 

“Who told you all that?” said the cat. “Did any 
of the sparks ever come back and tell you they could 
live forever?” 

“Oh no!” said the spark; “but we can see them, 
can we not? And, of course, we all want to shine 
forever.” 

“I said you were silly,” said the cat, “and now I 
know it; those are not sparks you see; they are stars 
in the sky.” 

“You can call them anything you like,” replied the 
spark, “but we make the bright light you see.” 

“Well, if you take my advice,” said the cat, “you 
will stay right in the fireplace, for once you reach the 
top of the chimney out of sight you go. The stars 
you see twinkling are far above the chimney, and you 


6 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


never could reach them.” But the spark would not 
be convinced. Just then some one opened a door and 
the draught blew the spark back into the fireplace. 
In a few minutes it was flying with the others toward 
the top of the chimney. 

Pussy watched the fire a minute and then looked at 
the dog. 

“The spark may be right, after all,” said the dog. 
“Let us go out and see if we can see it.” 

Pussy stretched herself and blinked. “Perhaps 
it is true,” she replied; “anyway, I will go with you 
and look.” 



THE GOOD SEA MONSTER 

O N an island of rocks out in the ocean lived a sea 
monster. His head was large, and when he 
opened his mouth it looked like a cave. 

It had been said that he was so huge that he could 
swallow a ship, and that on stormy nights he sat on 
the rocks and the flashing of his eyes could be seen 
for miles around. 

The sailors spoke of him with fear and trembling, 
but, as you can see, the sea monster had really been 
a friend to them, showing them the rock in the storm 
by flashing his eyes ; but because he looked so hideous 
all who beheld him thought he must be a cruel mon- 
ster. 

One night there was a terrible storm, and the 
monster went out into the ocean to see if any ship 
was wrecked in the night, and, if possible, help any 
one that was floating about. 



8 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


He found one little boy floating about on a plank. 
His name was Ko-Ko, and when he saw the monster 
he was afraid, but when Ko-Ko saw that the monster 
did not attempt to harm him he climbed on the 
monster’s back and he took him to the rocky island. 

Then the monster went back into the sea and 
Ko-Ko wondered if he were to be left alone. But 
after a while the monster returned and opened his 
mouth very wide. 

Ko-Ko ran when he saw the huge mouth, for he 
thought the monster intended to swallow him, but 
as he did not follow him Ko-Ko went back. 

The monster opened his mouth again, and Ko-Ko 
asked, “Do you want me to go inside?” and the 
monster nodded his head. 

“It must be for my own good,” said Ko-Ko, “for 
he could easily swallow me if he wished, without wait- 
ing for me to walk in.” 

So Ko-Ko walked into the big mouth and down a 
dark passage, but what the monster wanted him to 
do he could not think. He could see very faintly now, 
and after a while he saw a stove, a chair, and a table. 

“ I will take these out,” said Ko-Ko, “for I am sure 
I can use them.” 

He took them to a cave on the island, and when he 
returned the monster was gone ; but he soon returned, 
and again he opened his mouth. 

Ko-Ko walked in this time without waiting, and he 
found boxes and barrels of food, which he stored 


THE GOOD SEA MONSTER 


9 


away in the cave. When Ko-Ko had removed every- 
thing the monster lay down and went to sleep. 

Ko-Ko cooked his dinner and then he awoke the 
monster and said, “Dinner is ready,” but the mon- 
ster shook his head and plunged jnto the ocean. He 
soon returned with his mouth full of fish. Then 
Ko-Ko knew that the monster had brought all the 
things from the sunken ship for him, and he began to 
wish that the monster could talk, for he no longer 
feared him. 

“I wish you could talk,” he said. 

“I can,” the monster replied. “No one ever 
wished it before. An old witch changed me into a 
monster and put me on this island, where no one 
could reach me, and the only way I can be restored to 
my original form is for some one to wish it.” 

“I wish it,” said Ko-Ko. 

“You have had your wish,” said the monster, “and 
I can talk; but for me to become a man some one 
else must wish it.” 

The monster and Ko-Ko lived for a long time on 
the island. He took Ko-Ko for long rides on his back, 
and when the waves were too high and Ko-Ko was 
afraid the monster would open his mouth and Ko-Ko 
would crawl inside and be brought back safe to the 
island. 

One night, after a storm, Ko-Ko saw something 
floating on the water, and he jumped on the monster’s 
back and they swam out to it. 


IO 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


It proved to be a little girl, about Ko-Ko’s age, 
who had been on one of the wrecked vessels, and they 
brought her to the island. 

At first she was afraid of the monster, but when 
she learned that he had saved Ko-Ko as well as her 
and brought them all their food she became as fond 
of him as Ko-Ko was. . 

“I wish he were a man,” she said one day, as she 
sat on his back with Ko-Ko, ready for a sail. Splash 
went both children into the water, and there in place 
of the monster was an old man. He caught the 
children in his arms and brought them to the shore. 

“But what will we do for food, now thg,t you are a 
man?” asked Ko-Ko. 

“We shall want for nothing now,” replied the old 
man. “I am a sea-god and can do many things, now 
that I have my own form again. We will change this 
island into a beautiful garden, and when the little 
girl and you are grown up and married you shall have 
a castle, and all the sea-gods and nymphs will care 
for you. You will never want for anything again. 

“I will take you out on the ocean on the backs of 
my dolphins.” 

Ko-Ko and the little girl lived on the enchanted 
island, and all the things that the old sea-god promised 
came true. 



MOTHER TURKEY AND HER CHICKS 

M OTHER TURKEY believed in the old adage 
taught to her by her grandmother, “The early 
bird catches the worm,” and every night when the 
sun set she took her little chicks to the highest branch 
they could reach in an old apple-tree and sang them 
to sleep with this lullaby: 

“Close your eyes, my little, turkey chicks; 

Hide your heads, don’t peep. 

Mother knows the bogy fox’s tricks, 

And she’ll watch while you sleep.” 

Mother Turkey had told them about the bogy fox 
that lived in a hole on the other side of the hill, and 
it did not need more than the mention of that name 
to make them obey. 

“I do wish we could get just a look at him,” said 
one chick, as his mother came to the end of the verse. 

“I should not know him if I met him.” 

2 


12 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“Oh yes, you would,” replied his mother. “He 
has a very long tail, and a sharp nose, and his teeth ! 
Oh, dear me!” she exclaimed, as she flapped her wings 
at the thought of them. 

“Will you wake us if he comes to-night?” asked 
another chick. 

“I shall not need to do that,” replied Mother 
Turkey; “you will hear us talking. He is a very sly 
fellow, and always very polite and says nice things. 
But you cover your heads; it is getting late,” and she 
began to sing: 

“Close your eyes, my little turkey chicks; 

Hide your heads, don’t peep. 

Mother knows the bogy fox’s tricks, 

And she’ll watch while you sleep.” 

By the time Mother Turkey reached the end of 
the verse this time all the chicks were fast asleep. 

Mother Turkey stretched out her wings once or 
twice and turned her head in all directions, and then 
she settled herself for a nap. 

The moon was shining brightly when she awoke, 
and she saw not far off what looked like a large 
black dog walking cautiously toward the tree. Mother 
Turkey took another look and saw the bushy tail, and 
she perched herself more firmly on the limb and looked 
to see if her children were safe on there, too, for she 
knew that the bogy fox had come to take one of her 
chicks back to his hole if he could, 


MOTHER TURKEY AND HER CHICKS 13 

“Good evening, Mr. Fox,” she said, as the fox 
came near enough to hear her. “I was sure that I 
knew your splendid figure; you certainly make a 
most remarkable picture in the moonlight.” 

Mr. Fox was somewhat taken aback at this compli- 
ment paid him in such a pleasant manner, for usually 
he was the one to make remarks and the turkeys 
listened, not daring to move or speak. 

He recovered from his surprise by the time he was 
under the tree, and said: “You are most flattering, 
Mistress Turkey, and I can only return the compli- 
ment by telling you that you are a picture yourself 
in the moonlight, sitting so stately on that limb, but 
if you would enjoy to the full extent this beautiful 
evening you must come from the tree and take a walk 
over the hill.” 

“No doubt you are right,” replied Mrs. Turkey, 
“but I could not think of leaving my children alone.” 

“I should be very glad to take care of the little 
dears while you are gone,” said Mr. Fox, “and if you 
will have them come down beside me I will tell 
them a story which I am sure will keep them inter- 
ested until you return.” 

By this time the turkey chicks were awake and 
listening to what the fox was saying. He seemed so 
nice and polite that they quite forgot to be afraid, 
and when he spoke of telling them a story one of 
them said: “Oh, please do go, mother, and let him 
tell us a story. We’ll be very good if you will.” 


14 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“You see, my dear madam,” said the fox, “the 
little dears are quite willing to stay with me. Do go 
and enjoy the moonlight.” 

Mother Turkey looked at her children in a way 
that plainly said to them, “Be quiet,” and then she 
said to Mr. Fox: “I appreciate your kind offer, and 
were my children well should be very glad to leave 
them with you, but they have been sick, and are 
so lean that I have to be very careful that they 
sleep and eat well, or they will not be fat by next 
Thanksgiving, and that would be a disgrace, you 
know.” 

When the fox heard this he was not so anxious to 
have the chicks come down, so he said, “I know just 
how anxious you must feel, Mistress Turkey, and if 
you will come down where I can talk with you with- 
out being heard I will tell you the very thing to give 
them to make them fat.” 

“If he cannot get the chicks he will take me,” 
thought Mrs. Turkey, “but I am too old a bird to be 
caught even by this sly fellow.” 

Mrs. Turkey did not reply to this last remark. 
She was thinking of a trap she saw her master set the 
day before. “I wish you would walk around a little 
so my children can see what a beautiful bushy tail 
you have,” she said. “They have never seen so 
handsome a fellow as you are.” 

Mr. Fox was very proud of his tail, so he walked 
out from the shade of the tree and strutted about. 


MOTHER TURKEY AND HER CHICKS 15 


“Tell him how handsome he is,” whispered Mother 
Turkey to her chicks. 

“Oh, isn’t he handsome!’’ said one, and another 
said, “ I wish we had such bushy tails, instead of these 
straight feathers,” while Mrs. Turkey said, “You are 
quite the handsomest creature I have ever seen, and 
I have seen many in my time.” 

By this time the fox was so pleased with their ad- 
miration that he was ready to do anything to display 
his charms, so when Mrs. Turkey said, “I wish you 
would run and show them how you can run and 
jump,” he asked what he could jump on to show his 
nimbleness. 

“The top of that hogshead would be a good place,” 
said Mrs. Turkey, knowing well that the cask had no 
head and that it was nearly full of water. 

Away ran Mr. Fox, and splash he went into the 
hogshead. He tried to get out, but it was no use; 
the cask was too high, and then the farmer, hearing 
the noise, came out and soon put an end to Mr. Fox. 

The little turkeys sat wide-awake and trembling 
beside their mother, but when the farmer went into 
the house she began to sing: 

“Close your eyes, my little turkey chicks; 

Hide your heads, don’t peep. 

Mother knows the bogy fox’s tricks, 

And she’ll watch while you sleep.” 

And in a few minutes all was quiet again in the yard. 



THE FAIRIES AND THE DANDELION 

T HE Fairies say that a long time ago the dandelion 
did not have a yellow blossom or the fluffy white 
cap it wears after the yellow has been taken off. 

They tell the story that one night, a long time ago, 
while they were holding one of their revels in a, field, 
sounds of weeping and moaning were heard. 

The Fairy Queen stopped the dance and listened. 
“It comes from the ground,” she said, “down among 
the grasses. Hurry, all of you; find out who is in 
trouble and come back and tell me.” 

Away went the Fairies into the fields and gardens 
and lanes. Darting in and out among the blades of 
grass, they found queer-looking weeds with leaves 
resembling a lion’s tooth. They* were crying and 
chanting a sing-song tune: 

“Here we grow so bright and green, 

The color of grass, and can’t be seen. 

O bitter woe, but we’ll not stop 
Till the Fairies give us a yellow top.” 


THE FAIRIES AND THE DANDELION 17 


Back flew the Fairies to their Queen and told her 
what they had heard. 

“If only they had asked for some other color!” 
she said. “There are so many yellow blossoms now. 
The buttercup, the goldenglow, and the goldenrod 
will all be jealous if another yellow flower enters their 
bright circle. Go back and ask them if they will be 
quiet if we give them a white top.” 

The Fairies danced away to the crying dandelions 
with the Queen’s message. 

“The Queen will give you a white top,” they said. 

“No, no!” they cried. “Yellow is the color we 
should wear with our green leaves. It is the color of 
the sun and we wish to be as near like him as we 
can,” and they all began to cry: 

“O bitter woe, we will not stop 
Till the Fairies give us a yellow top.” 

They made such a noise that the Fairies put their 
fingers in their ears as they flew back to the Queen. 

The grass-blades stood up higher and looked about. 
“Do quiet those noisy weeds,” they said to the 
Queen; “give them the yellow top for which they 
are crying, and let us go to sleep. We have been 
kept awake since sunset and it will soon be sunrise.” 

“What shall we do?” said the Queen. “I do not 
know where to get the yellow they want.” 

“If we could get some sunbeams,” said one Fairy, 
“we could have just the color they are crying for. 


i8 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


Of course, we cannot venture into such a strong light, 
but the Elves might gather them for us.” 

So they went to the Elves and asked them to gather 
the sunbeams for the next day, and bring them to the 
valley the next night. 

The Elves were very willing to help them, but the 
sun shone very little the next day, and they were 
able to gather only a few basketfuls of the bright 
golden color. 

When the Queen saw the quantity she was in de- 
spair. “This will never go around,” she said, “and 
those that are left without a yellow top will cry 
louder than ever.” 

“Why not divide it among them?” said one Fairy. 
“It will last for a little while and we can give them 
our fluffy white caps when that is gone. We shall 
take them off soon and the dandelions can wear them 
the rest of the season.” 

The face of the Queen brightened. “The very 
thing,” she said, “if only the noisy little weeds will 
agree. Go to them and say they can wear yellow of 
the very shade they most desire half the season if 
they are willing to accept our fluffy white caps for 
the other half.” 

The Fairies hurried to the dandelions and told them 
what the Queen had said. The dandelions stopped 
crying and said they would be satisfied, and the Queen 
rode through the meadows, fields, gardens, and lanes, 
dropping gold upon each weed as she passed along. 


THE FAIRIES AND THE DANDELION 19 


In the morning when the sun beheld his own 
bright color looking up at him he was so surprised 
that he almost stood still. 

The Fairies kept their promise, and when it was 
time to take off their fluffy white caps they went 
among the dandelions and hung a cap on each stem. 

The dandelions did not cry again, and the grass 
sleeps on from sunset to sunrise, undisturbed. 



MR. ’POSSUM 

M R. ’POSSUM lived in a tree in the woods where 
Mr. Bear lived, and one morning just before 
spring Mr. ’Possum awoke very hungry. 

He ran around to Mr. Squirrel’s house and tried to 
get an invitation to breakfast, but Mr. Squirrel had 
only enough for himself. He knew that Mr. ’Possum 
always lived on his neighbors when he could, so he 
said: “Of course you have been to breakfast long 
ago, Mr. ’Possum, you are such a smart fellow, so I 
will not offer you any.” 

Mr. ’Possum of course said he had, and that he 
only dropped in to make a call ; he was on his wav to 
Mr. Rabbit’s house. 

But he met with no better success at Mr. Rabbit’s, 
for he only put his nose out of the door, and when he 
saw who was there, said: “I am as busy as I can be 
getting ready for my spring planting. Will you come 
in and help sort seeds?” 


MR. ’POSSUM 


21 


Mr. Rabbit knew the easiest way to be rid of Mr. 
’Possum was to ask him to work. 

“I would gladly help you,” replied Mr. ’Possum, 
“but I am in a great hurry this morning. I have some 
important business with Mr. Bear and I only stopped 
to say how-do-you-do.” 

“Mr. Bear, I am afraid, will not be receiving to- 
day,” said Mr. Rabbit. “It is rather early for him to 
be up, isn’t it?” 

“ I thought as the sun was nice and warm he might 
venture out, and I thought it would please him to 
have me there to welcome him,”' said Mr. ’Possum. 
“Besides that, I wish to see him on business.” 

Now, Mr. ’Possum knew well enough that Mr. 
Bear would not be up, and he wanted to find him 
sleeping, and soundly, too. 

He went to the door and knocked softly, then he 
waited, and as he did not hear any moving inside 
he went to a window and looked in. There was Mr. 
Bear’s chair and pipe just as he left them when he 
went to bed. He looked in the bedroom window and 
he could see in the bed a big heap of bedclothes, and 
just the tiniest tip of Mr. Bear’s nose. 

Mr. ’Possum listened, and he trembled a little, 
for he could hear Mr. Bear breathing very loud, and 
it sounded anything but pleasant. 

“Oh, he is sound asleep for another week!” said 
Mr. ’Possum. “What is the use of being afraid?” 
He walked around the house until he came to the 


22 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


pantry window; then he stopped and raised the 
sash. 

He put in one foot and sat on the sill and listened. 
All was still, so he slid off to the floor. Mr. ’Possum 
looked around Mr. Bear’s well-filled pantry. He did 
not know where to begin, he was so hungry. 

He became so interested and was so greedy that he 
forgot all about that he was in Mr. Bear’s pantry, 
and he stayed on and on and ate and ate. 

Then he fell asleep, and the first thing he knew a 
pair of shining eyes were looking in the window and 
a big head with a red mouth full of long white teeth 
was poked into the pantry. 

Mr. ’Possum thought his time had come, so he 
just closed his eyes and pretended he was dead, but 
he peeked a little so as to see what happened. 

The big head was followed by a body, and when it 
was on the sill Mr. ’Possum saw it was Mr. Fox, and 
the next thing he knew Mr. Fox came off the sill with 
a bang and hit a pan of beans and then knocked over 
a jar of preserves. 

The noise was enough to awaken all the bears for 
miles around, and Mr. ’Possum was frightened nearly 
to death, for he heard Mr. Bear growling in the next 
room. 

While Mr. Fox was on the floor and trying to get 
up on his feet Mr. ’Possum jumped up and was out 
of the window like a flash. Mr. Fox saw something, 
but he did not know what, and before he could make 


MR. ’POSSUM 


23 


his escape the door of the pantry opened and there 
stood Mr. Bear with a candle in his hand, looking in. 

“Oh, oh!” he growled, “so you are trying to rob me 
while I’m taking my sleep, v and he sprang at Mr. Fox. 

“Wait, wait,” said Mr. Fox. “Let me explain, my 
dear Mr. Bear. You are mistaken; I was trying to 
protect your home. I saw your window open and 
knew you were asleep, and when I got in the window 
the thief attacked me and nearly killed me and now 
you are blaming me for it. You are most ungrateful. 
I shall know another time what to do.” 

Mr. Bear looked at him. His mouth did not show 
any signs of food, and Mr. Fox opened his mouth and 
told him to look. 

“I wonder who it could have been?” he said, when 
he was satisfied that Mr. Fox was not the thief. “It 
may have been that ’Possum fellow. I’ll go over to 
his house in the morning.” 

The next morning Mr. Bear called on Mr. ’Possum. 
He found him sleeping soundly, and when he at last 
opened the door he was rubbing his eyes as though he 
was not half awake. 

“Why, how do you do?” he said, when he saw Mr. 
Bear. “I did not suppose you were up yet.” 

“You didn’t?” asked Mr. Bear, and then he stared 
at Mr. ’Possum’s coat. “What is the matter with 
your coat?” he asked. “You have white hairs stick- 
ing out all over you, and the rest of your coat is almost 
white, too.” 


24 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


Now Mr. ’Possum had a black coat before, and he 
ran to the mirror and looked at himself. It was true; 
he was almost white. He knew what had happened. 
He was so frightened when he was caught in Mr. 
Bear’s pantry by Mr. Fox, and heard Mr. Bear growl, 
that he had turned nearly white with fright. 

“I have been terribly ill,” he told Mr. Bear, going 
back to the door. “And I have been here all alone 
this winter. It was a terrible sickness; I guess that 
is what has caused it.” 

Mr. Bear went away, shaking his head. “That 
fellow is crafty,” he said. “I feel sure he was the 
thief, and yet he certainly does look sick.” 

After that all the opossums were of dull white 
color, with long, white hairs scattered here and there 
over their fur. They were never able to outgrow the 
mark the thieving Mr. ’Possum left upon his race. 



THE ROOSTER THAT CROWED TOO SOON 

R ED Rooster felt it was time he showed the new 
. drake that had come to live in the barnyard 
that he was a very brave rooster, as well as the ruler 
of the barnyard. 

So the next time he saw the drake he said: “I 
suppose you have been in many battles, and no doubt 
the home you have just come from will miss your pro- 
tection as well as your company.’ 

“No,” replied the drake; “I never was in a battle. 
I do not quarrel with any one. I believe in living in 
peace with all around me.” 

“Oh, well, that is all very well for you, perhaps,” 
said the rooster; “but for me, it is a different matter. 
I have to protect all the hens and chickens and I also 
protect myself. I can whip any rooster around here, 
and no one dares come into my yard.” 

The drake did not reply, for just then a strange 


26 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


rooster came into the yard, and Red Rooster ran at 
him with sweeping wings. 

He pecked at the. intruder and spurred him until 
he was glad to run away. 

“There, what did I tell you?” said Red Rooster, 
coming back to the drake. “I am the greatest fighter 
around this part of the country. I am not afraid of 
anything.” 

“Oh, don’t talk so much about it,” said the dog 
from his house near-by. 4 4 I think there are a few things 
even you are afraid of, Mr. Rooster. I guess you 
would run from a fox.” 

“I am not afraid of a fox,” said Red Rooster. “I can 
scare him by crowing loudly. Master knows when I 
make a great noise it is time for him to find the cause. 
Oh, I am very brave and can take care of myself.” 

Red Rooster felt so brave that he thought the 
highest place he could get on the wall would be a 
good place to talk about his bravery, so he flew up 
on the wall by the gate, and then to the top of the 
hen-house. 

Madam Pig was in her pen on the other side. 
“Madam Pig,” he said, “did you see me whip that 
impudent rooster that came through our yard?” 

Madam Pig grunted that she did not, as she could 
not see over the wall. 

“You surely missed a great sight,” said the rooster, 
stretching his neck and strutting along the roof. 

‘ ‘ I am a brave fellow. I never allow any one to come 


THE ROOSTER THAT CROWED TOO SOON 27 


around here that does not belong here. I have just 
been telling the new drake about my prowess and 
bravery. 

“Mr. Drake,” he called, as the new drake and his 
family waddled past the hen-house, “if you need pro- 
tection at any time do not hesitate to call upon me.” 

A robin perched upon the roof not far from him, 
and Red Rooster flew at him. “Go away,” he said. 
“I am very fierce and brave, and if you were as large 
as a cow I should attack you just the same. I am not 
afraid of anything.” 

Red Rooster strutted up and down, crowing and 
thinking how brave he was, and so intent was he upon 
his greatness that he did not heed the warning cries 
that came from the fowls in the yard below him. 

In a moment more a big hawk swooped down and 
held Red Rooster in his claws. He started to fly just 
as the shot from a gun sounded, and Red Rooster fell 
to the ground. 

He jumped up and shook himself, and looked in 
time to see his master pick up the dead hawk. 

“I guess that hawk won’t show himself around 
here again,” he said. “That was a very hard fight, 
but I won, even if I did get a tumble.” 

“Well, if you are not a conceited fellow!” laughed 
the dog; “but I was not the only one that saw the 
hawk start off with you, and we all know that if 
master had not shot it you would not be here to crow 

to-morrow morning.” 

3 


28 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“No,” piped the robin from a tree; “you were 
telling me how brave you were, and the hawk was not 
half as large as a cow. You were not very brave when 
he came upon you. You did not do a thing. Oh, 
dear ! it was so funny to hear you crowing about your 
bravery and then to see you caught up so soon by a 
hawk that is only a little larger than you.” 

The drake and all his family were listening, and 
Madam Pig had put her head over the wall to listen. 
Poor Red Rooster felt that it was no time to crow 
about his bravery, so he walked away with all the 
dignity he could muster. 

“He crowed too soon,” said the drake. 

“He crowed too much,” said the dog. 

“He crowed too loud,” said the robin, “or he would 
have heard the warning cries from the hens and 
chickens.” 



TEARFUL 

O NCE upon a time there was a little girl named 
Tearful, because she cried so often. 

If she could not have her own way, she cried; if 
she could not have everything for which she wished, 
she cried. 

Her mother told her one day that she would melt 
away in tears if she cried so often. “You are like the 
boy who cried for the moon,” she told her, “and if 
it had been given to him it would not have made him 
happy, for what possible use could the moon be to 
any one out of its proper place ? And that is the way 
with you ; half the things for which you cry would be 
of no use to you if you got them.” 

Tearful did not take warning or heed her mother’s 
words of wisdom, and kept on crying just the same. 

One morning she was crying as she walked along 
to school, because she wanted to stay at home, when 
she noticed a frog hopping along beside her. 


30 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“Why are you following me?” she asked, looking 
at him through her tears. 

“Because you will soon form a pond around you 
with your tears,” replied the frog, “and I have always 
wanted a pond all to myself.” 

“I shall not make any pond for you,” said Tearful, 
“and I do not want you following me, either.” 

The frog continued to hop along beside her, and 
Tearful stopped crying and began to run, but the 
frog hopped faster, and she could not get away from 
him, so she began to cry again. 

“Go away, you horrid green frog!” she said. 

At last she was so tired she sat on a stone by the 
roadside, crying all the time. 

“Now,” replied the frog, “I shall soon have my 
pond.” 

Tearful cried harder than ever, then; she could 
not see, her tears fell so fast, and by and by she 
heard a splashing sound. She opened her eyes and 
saw water all around her. 

She was on a small island in the middle of the pond; 
the frog hopped out of the pond, making a terrible 
grimace as he sat down beside her. 

“I hope you are satisfied,” said Tearful. “You 
have your pond; why don’t you stay in it?” 

“Alas!” replied the frog, “I have wished for some- 
thing which I cannot use now that I have it. Your 
tears are salt and my pond which I have all by myself 
is so salt that I cannot enjoy it. If only your tears 


TEARFUL 


3i 

had been fresh I should have been a most fortunate 
fellow.” 

•‘You needn’t stay if you do not like it,” said 
Tearful, “and you needn’t find fault with my tears, 
either,” she said, beginning to cry again. 

“Stop! stop!” cried the frog, hopping about ex- 
citedly; “you will have a flood if you keep on crying.” 

Tearful saw the water rising around her, so she 
stopped a minute. “What shall I do?” she asked. 
“I cannot swim, and I will die if I have to stay here,” 
and then she began to cry again. 

The frog hopped up and down in front of her, waving 
his front legs and telling her to hush. “ If you would 
only stop crying,” he said, “I might be able to help 
you, but I cannot do a thing if you cover me with 
your salt tears.” 

Tearful listened, and promised she would not cry 
if he would get her away from the island. 

“There is only one way that I know of,” said the 
frog; “you must smile; that will dry the pond and 
we can escape.” 

“But I do not feel like smiling,” said Tearful, and 
her eyes filled with tears again. 

“Look out!” said the frog; “you will surely be 
drowned in your own tears if you cry again.” 

Tearful began to laugh. “That would be queer, 
wouldn’t it, to be drowned in my own tears?” she 
said. 

“That is right, keep on smiling,” said the frog; 


32 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“the pond is smaller already.” And he stood up on 
his hind legs and began to dance for joy. 

Tearful laughed again. “Oh, you are so funny!” 
she said. “ I wish I had your picture. I never saw a 
frog dance before.” 

“You have a slate under your arm,” said the frog. 
“Why don’t you draw a picture of me?” The frog 
picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground, and 
then he leaned on it with one arm, or front leg, and, 
crossing his feet, he stood very still. 

Tearful drew him in that position, and then he 
kicked up his legs as if he were dancing, and she tried 
to draw him that way, but it was not a very good 
likeness. 

“Do you like that?” she asked the frog when she 
held the slate for him to see. He looked so surprised 
that Tearful laughed again. “You did not think 
you were handsome, did you?” she asked. 

“I had never thought I looked as bad as those 
pictures,” replied the frog. “Let me try drawing 
your picture,” he said. 

“Now look pleasant,” he said, as he seated himself 
in front of Tearful, “and do smile.” 

Tearful did as he requested, and in a few minutes 
he handed her the slate. “Where is my nose?” asked 
Tearful, laughing. 

“Oh, I forgot the nose !” said the frog. ‘ ‘ But don’t 
you think your eyes are nice and large, and your 
mouth, too?” 


TEARFUL 


33 

‘‘They are certainly big in this picture,” said 
Tearful. “I hope I do not look just like that.” 

“I do not think either of us are artists,” replied the 
frog. 

Tearful looked around her. “Why, where is the 
pond?” she asked. “It is gone.” 

“I thought it would dry up if you would only 
smile,” said the frog; “and I think both of us have 
learned a lesson. I shall never again wish for a pond 
of my own. I should be lonely without my com- 
panions, and then, it might be salt, just as this one 
was. And you surely will never cry over little things 
again, for you see what might happen to you, and 
then you look so much prettier smiling.” 

“Perhaps I do,” said Tearful, “but your pictures 
of me make me doubt it. However, I feel much 
happier smiling, and I do not want to be on an island 
again, even with such a pleasant companion as you 
were.” 

“Look out for the tears, then,” said the frog as he 
hopped away. 





HILDA’S MERMAID 

L ITTLE Hilda’s father was a sailor and went 
4 away on long voyages. Hilda lived in a little 
cottage on the shore and used to spin and knit while 
her father was away, for her mother was dead and 
she had to be the housekeeper. Some days she would 
go out in her boat and fish, for Hilda was fond of the 
water. She was bom and had always lived on the 
shore. When the water was very calm Hilda would 
look down into the blue depths and try to see a 
mermaid. She was very anxious to see one, she had 
heard her father tell such wonderful stories about 
them — how they sang, and combed their beautiful 
long hair. 

One night when the wind was blowing and the rain 
was beating hard upon her window Hilda could hear 
the horn warning the sailors off the rocks. Hilda 


HILDA’S MERMAID 


35 


lighted her father’s big lantern and ran down to the 
shore and hung it on the mast of a wreck which lay 
there, so the sailors would not run their ships upon 
it. Little Hilda was not afraid, for she had seen many 
such storms. When she returned to her cottage she 
found the door was unlatched, but thought the wind 
had blown it open. When she entered she found a 
little girl with beautiful hair sitting on the floor. 
She was a little frightened at first, for the girl wore a 
green dress and it was wound around her body in the 
strangest manner. 

“I saw your light,*’ said the child, “and came in. 
The wind blew me far up on shore. I should not have 
come up on a night like this, but a big wave looked so 
tempting I thought I would jump on it and have a 
nice ride, but it was nearer the shore than I thought 
it, and it landed me right near your door.’’ 

“Oh, my!” How Hilda’s heart beat, for she knew 
this child must be a mermaid. Then she saw what 
she had thought a green dress was really her body 
and tail curled up on the floor, and it was beautiful 
as the lamp fell upon it and made it glisten. 

“Will you have some of my supper?” asked Hilda, 
for she wanted to be hospitable, although she had not 
the least idea what mermaids ate. 

“Thank you,” answered the mermaid. “I am not 
very hungry, but if you could give me a seaweed 
sandwich I should like it.” 

Poor Hilda did not know what to do, but she went 


36 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


to the closet and brought out some bread, which she 
spread with nice fresh butter, and filled a glass with 
milk. She told her she was sorry, but she did not 
have any seaweed sandwiches, but she hoped she 
would like what she had prepared. The little mer- 
maid ate it and Hilda was pleased. 

“Do you live here all the time?” she asked Hilda. 
“I should think you would be very warm and want 
to be in the water part of the time.” 

Hilda told her she could not live in the water as 
she did, because her body was not like hers. 

“Oh, I am so sorry!” replied the mermaid. “I 
hoped you would visit me some time; we have such 
good times, my sisters and I, under the sea.” 

“Tell me about your home,” said Hilda. 

“Come and sit beside me and I will,” she re- 
plied. 

Hilda sat upon the floor by her side. The mermaid 
felt of Hilda’s clothes and thought it must be a bother 
to have so many clothes. 

“How can you swim?” she asked. 

Hilda told her she put on a bathing-suit, but the 
mermaid thought that a nuisance. 

“I will tell you about our house first,” she began. 
“Our father, Neptune, lives in a beautiful castle at 
the bottom of the sea. It is built of mother-of-pearl. 
All around the castle grow beautiful green things, and 
it has fine white sand around it also. All my sisters 
live there, and we are always glad to get home after 


HILDA’S MERMAID 


37 


we have been at the top of the ocean, it is so nice and 
cool in our home. The wind never blows there and 
the rain does not reach us.” 

“You do not mind being wet by the rain, do you?” 
asked Hilda. 

“Oh no!” said the mermaid, “but the rain hurts 
us. It falls in little sharp points and feels like 
pebbles.” 

“How do you know how pebbles, feel?” Hilda 
asked. 

“Oh, sometimes the nereids come and bother us; 
they throw pebbles and stir up the water so we can- 
not see.” 

“Who are the nereids?” asked Hilda. 

“They are the sea-nymphs; but we make the 
dogfish drive them away. We are sirens, and they 
are very jealous of us because we are more beautiful 
than they,” said the mermaid. 

Hilda thought she was rather conceited, but the 
little mermaid seemed to be quite unconscious she 
had conveyed that impression. 

“How do you find your way home after you have 
been at the top of the ocean?” asked Hilda. 

“Oh, when Father Neptune counts us and finds 
any missing he sends a whale to spout; sometimes he 
sends more than one, and we know where to dive 
when we see that.” 

“What do you eat besides seaweed sandwiches?” 
asked Hilda. 


38 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“Fish eggs, and very little fish,” answered the mer- 
maid. “When we have a party we have cake.” 

Hilda opened her eyes. “Where do you get cake?” 
she asked. 

“We make it. We grind coral into flour and mix 
it with fish eggs; then we put it in a shell and send 
a mermaid to the top of the ocean with it and she 
holds it in the sun until it bakes. We go to the 
Gulf Stream and gather grapes and we have sea-foam 
and lemonade to drink.” 

“Lemonade?” said Hilda. “Where do you get 
your lemons?” 

“Why, the sea-lemon!” replied the mermaid; 
“that is a small mussel-fish the color of a lemon.” 

“What do you do at your parties — you cannot 
dance?” said Hilda. 

“We swim to the music, circle around and dive and 
glide.” 

“But the music — where do you get musicians?” 
Hilda continued. 

“We have plenty of music,” replied the mer- 
maid. “The sea-elephant trumpets for us ; then there 
is the pipefish, the swordfish runs the scales of the 
sea-adder with his sword, the sea-shells blob, and 
altogether we have splendid music. But it is late, 
and we must not talk any more.” 

So the little mermaid curled herself up and soon 
they were asleep. 

The sun shining in the window awakened Hilda 


HILDA’S MERMAID 


39 


next morning and she looked about her. The mer- 
maid was not there, but Hilda was sure it had not 
been a dream, for she found pieces of seaweed on the 
floor, and every time she goes out in her boat she 
looks for her friend, and when the whales spout she 
knows they are telling the mermaids to come home. 



THE MIRROR’S DREAM 

“ r ‘THE very idea of putting me in the attic!” said 
A the little old-fashioned table, as it spread out 
both leaves in a gesture of despair. ‘‘I have stood in 
the parlor down-stairs for fifty years, and now I am 
consigned to the rubbish-room,” and it dropped its 
leaves at its side with a sigh. 

“I was there longer than that,” said the sofa. 
“Many a courtship I have helped along.” 

“What do you think of me?” asked an old mirror 
that stood on the floor, leaning against the 
wall. “To be brought to the attic after reflecting 
generation after generation. All the famous beauties 
have looked into my face; it is a degradation from 
which I can never recover. This young mistress who 
has come here to live does not seem to understand 
the dignity of our position. Why, I was in the family 
when her husband’s grandmother was a girl and she 


THE MIRROR’S DREAM 


4i 


has doomed me to a dusty attic to dream out the rest 
of my days.” 

The shadows deepened in the room and gradually 
the discarded mirror ceased to complain. It had 
fallen asleep, but later the moonlight streamed in 
through the window and showed that its dreams were 
pleasant ones, for it dreamed of the old and happy 
days. 

The door opened softly and a young girl entered. 
Her hair was dark and hung in curls over her white 
shoulders. Her dark eyes wandered over the room 
until she saw the old mirror. 

She ran across the room and stood in front of it. 
She wore a hoop-skirt over which hung her dress of 
pale gray, with tiny pink ruffles that began at her 
slender waist and ended at the bottom of her wide 
skirt. 

Tiny pink rosebuds were dotted over the waist 
and skirt, and she also wore them in her dark curls, 
where one stray blossom bolder than the others rested 
* against her soft cheek. 

She stood before the mirror and gazed at her re- 
flection a minute; then she curtsied, and said, 
with a laugh, “I think you will do; he must speak 
to-night.” 

She seemed to fade away in the moonlight, and the 
door opened again and a lady entered, and with her 
came five handsome children. 

They went to the mirror, and one little girl with 


42 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


dark curls and pink cheeks went close and touched 
it with her finger. “Look,” she said to the others, “ I 
look just like the picture of mother when she was a 
girl.” And as they stood there a gentleman appeared 
beside them and put his arm around the lady and the 
children gathered around them. They seemed to 
walk along the moonlight path and disappear through 
the window. 

Softly the door opened again and an old lady 
entered, leaning on the arm of an old gentleman. 
They walked to the mirror and he put his arms around 
her and kissed her withered cheek. 

“You are always young and fair to me,” he said, 
and her face smiled into the depths of the old 
mirror. 

The moonlight made a halo around their heads as 
they faded away. 

The morning light streamed in through the window 
and the mirror’s dream was ended. 

By and by the door opened and a young girl came 
in the room. Her dark hair was piled high on her 
head, and her dark eyes looked over the room until 
they fell upon a chest in the comer. She went to it 
and opened it and took out a pale-gray dress with 
pink ruffles. She put it on; then she let down her 
hair, which fell in curls over her shoulders. 

She ran to the old mirror and looked at herself. 
“ I do look like grandmother,” she said. “I will wear 
this to the old folks’ party to-night. Grandfather 


THE MIRROR’S DREAM 


43 


proposed to grandmother the night she wore this 
dress.” Her cheeks turned very pink as she said this, 
and she ran out of the room. 

Then one day the door opened again and a bride 
entered, leaning on the arm of her young husband. 
There were tears in her eyes, although she was smiling. 
She led him in front of the old mirror. “This old 
mirror,” she said, “has seen all the brides in our fam- 
ily for generations, and I am going far away and 
may never look into it again. My brother’s wife 
does not want it down-stairs, and I may be the last 
bride it will ever see,” and she passed her hand over 
its frame caressingly. 

And then she went away and the old mirror was 
left to its dreams for many years. Then one day 
the door opened again and a lady entered; with her 
was a young girl. 

The lady looked around the attic room until she 
saw the mirror. “There it is,” she said. “Come and 
look in it, dear.” The young girl followed her. 
“The last time I looked into this dear old mirror,” 
the lady said, “was the day your father and I were 
married. I never expected to have it for my own 
then. But your uncle’s wife wants to remodel the 
house, and these things are in the way ; she does not 
want old-fashioned things, and they are willing I 
should have them.” 

“Oh, mother, they are beautiful !” said the girl, look- 
ing around the room. “We will never part with them; 

4 


44 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


we will take them to our home and make them forget 
they were ever discarded.” 

And so the mirror and the sofa and the table and 
many other pieces of bygone days went to live where 
they were loved, and the old mirror still reflects dark- 
haired girls and ladies, who smile into its depths and 
see its beauty as well as their own. 


/ 



THE CONTEST 

T HE old white rooster was dead. 

The hens stood in groups of threes and fours 
all around the yard, the turkeys were gathered around 
the big gobbler and seemed to be talking very ear- 
nestly. 

The ducks stood around the old drake, who was 
shaking his head emphatically as he talked. 

The geese were listening very attentively to the 
gander, and he was stretching his neck and seemed to 
be trying to impress them with its length. 

“I see no reason now why I should not be king of 
the yard, ’ ’ he was saying. ‘ ‘ White Rooster is dead and 
there is no other rooster to take his place. I am 
going to see the hens and ask them what they think. 

“White Rooster is dead,” he said to them, “and I 
think I should be king of the yard. My neck is very 
long and I can see over the heads of all the fowls; I 



46 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


see no reason why I should not take the place of White 
Rooster.” 

The turkeys and the geese, seeing the gander ap- 
proach the hens, ran as fast as they could to hear 
what he was saying. 

The turkey gobbler, hearing the last part of the 
gander’s remark, said: “How can you say that you 
can see over all heads ? Have you forgotten me and my 
height? And as for being king,” he said, “the rooster 
never should have been cock of the walk. I am a 
much more majestic-looking bird than any rooster. 
No, indeed, you should never think of ruling, Sir 
Gander. I should be king of the yard.” 

The gobbler walked away, spreading out his wings 
and letting them drag on the ground and gobbling 
very loudly. 

The ducks and the drake stood listening to all this 
talk, and as the gobbler walked away the drake said : 
“I cannot understand why any one should think of 
being king when I know so much of the world. I am 
the one to rule, for I have been all around the pond, 
and it is very large; because of my knowledge I think 
I should be king.” 

“He must not be king,” whispered one old hen to 
another; “he would make us go in the water, and we 
will all be drowned.” 

They had talked a long time without reaching any 
decision, when the dog happened along. “What is 
the matter?” he asked. 


THE CONTEST 


47 


“The old white rooster is dead,” said the gobbler, 
who had returned with his family to hear the dis- 
cussion, “and I think I should be king, and the drake 
and the gander think they should, but, of course, 
you can see that I am best suited to rule the yard.” 

“You can settle that very easily,” said the dog. 
“You can all take a turn at being king, and in that 
way you will know who is best suited to rule.” And 
so it was decided, and the gobbler was the first one 
to go on trial. The poor hens tagged along after the 
turkeys, for the gobbler insisted upon parading all 
around the yard. The gander and the drake would 
not follow behind, so the gander and his family 
walked on one side of the gobbler, and the drake and 
his family on the other. 

The poor hens wept as they followed behind. “I 
never was so humiliated in my life,” said one old hen, 
“and it is not right.” 

The next day there was so much dissatisfaction 
because of the gobbler’s overbearing way that the 
dog decided that the drake must take his turn. 

“Everybody must learn to swim,” said the drake 
as soon as he was appointed ruler. “Come down to 
the pond,” and off he started, his family waddling 
after him. 

“What did I tell you?” said the old hen. “This 
will be the end of us.” 

The geese did not mind being in the water part of 
the time, but the turkeys set up such a gobble and 


4 8 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


the hens cackled so loudly that the dog had to decide 
right there that the drake was not a suitable king. 

The gander, knowing that his time had come, 
stretched his neck and looked very important. 

“You need not go near the pond,” he said to the 
hens, “but you must learn to fly,” and he spread out 
his wings as he spoke and flew over the fence, the 
geese following him. 

The turkeys flew to the top of the fence and roosted 
there, but the hens and ducks stood on the ground, 
looking up at them in the most discouraged way, 
and at the gobbler, who gobbled at them, saying, 
“You are to be pitied, for you do not see all the sights 
we do and you never can fly to the top of this fence. 

“There is the master,” he said. “He is coming 
down the road and he has something under his arm. 
I’ll tell you what it is when he gets nearer.” 

The hens were trying to look under the fence and 
through the holes. 

The gobbler looked for a minute, and then he said : 
“I do believe — ” then he stopped. “Yes, it is,” he 
continued, looking again; “it’s a rooster.” 

The gobbler flew down and the turkeys followed 
and the master drove the gander and his family back 
to the yard. “You will get your wings clipped to- 
morrow,” he said, and then from under his arm he 
released a big yellow-and-black rooster, which flew 
to the ground, looked about, spread his wings and 
crowed in a way that plainly said: “ I am cock of this 


THE CONTEST 


49 


walk and king of this yard. Let none dispute my 
rights.” 

The drake collected his family and started for the 
pond, and the gander and geese followed along 
behind. 

The turkey spread his wings and held his head high 
as he strutted away with his family. But he did 
not impress the new rooster; he was ruler and he 
knew it. 

“Now the sun will know when to rise,” said one hen, 
“and we shall know when to awake.” 

“Yes,” said another, “and we have had a narrow 
escape; it looked for a while as if our family were to 
lose its social standing, but now that we have a new 
king we can hold up our heads again and look down 
on the others, if we have to go to the top of the wood- 
pile to do it.” 

The dog laughed to himself as he walked away. 
“I knew all the time,” he said, “that the new rooster 
was coming, but I thought it would do them good to 
know they were only fitted to care for their own flock.” 



THE PINK AND BLUE EGGS 

“ T TELL you I saw them with my own eyes,” said 
1 old White Hen, standing on one foot with her neck 
outstretched and her bill wide open. “One was pink 
and the other was blue. They were just like any other 
egg as far as size, but the color — think of it — pink 
and blue eggs. Whoever could have laid them?” Old 
White Hen looked from one to the other of the group 
of hens and chickens as they stood around her. 

“Well, I know that I didn’t,” said Speckled Hen. 

“You needn’t look at me,” said Brown Hen. “I 
lay large white eggs, and you know it, every one of 
you. They are the best eggs in the yard, if I do say 
it.” 

“Oh, I would not say that,” said White Hen. 
“You seem to forget that the largest egg ever seen 
in this yard was laid by me, and it was a little on the 
brown color; white eggs are all well enough, but give 
me a brown tone for quality.” 


THE PINK AND BLUE EGGS 


5i 


“You never laid such a large egg as that but once,” 
replied Brown Hen, “and everybody thought it was 
a freak egg, so the least said about it the better, it 
seems to me.” 

“It is plain to understand how you feel about that 
egg,” said White Hen, “but it does not help us to 
find out who laid the blue and pink eggs.” 

“Where did you see them?” asked Speckled Hen. 

“On the table, by the window of the farm-house,” 
said old White Hen. “I flew up on a barrel that 
stood under the window, and then I stretched my 
neck and looked in the window, and there on the 
table, in a little basket, I saw those strange-looking 
eggs.” 

“Perhaps the master had bought them for some 
one of us to sit on and hatch out,” said Brown 
Hen. 

“Well, I, for one, refuse to do it,” said White Hen. 
“I think it would be an insult to put those gaudy 
things into our nests.” 

“I am sure I will not hatch them,” said Speckled 
Hen. “I would look funny hiking around here with 
a blue chick and a pink chick beside me, and I a 
speckled hen. No! I will not mother fancy-colored 
chicks; the master can find another hen to do that.” 

“You do not think for a minute that I would do 
such a thing, I hope,” said Brown Hen. “I only 
mentioned the fact that the master might have such 
an idea, but as for mixing up colors, I guess not. My 


52 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


little yellow darlings shall not be disgraced by a blue 
and a pink chick running with them.” 

“Perhaps White Hen is color-blind,” said Speckled 
Hen. “The eggs she saw may be white, after all.” 

“If you doubt my word or my sight go and look 
for yourselves,” said White Hen, holding her head 
high. “You will find a blue and a pink egg, just as I 
told you.” 

Off ran Speckled Hen and Brown Hen, followed by 
many others, and all the chicks in the yard. 

One after another they flew to the top of the barrel 
and looked in the window at the eggs White Hen had 
told them of. It was all too true; the eggs were blue 
and pink. 

“Peep, peep, peep, peep, we want to see the blue 
and pink eggs, too,” cried the chickens. “We never 
saw any and we want to look at them.” 

“Oh dear! why did I talk before them?” said 
Brown Hen. “They will not be quiet unless they 
see, and how in the world shall I get them up to 
that window?” 

“Did it ever occur to you not to give them every- 
thing they cry for?” said White Hen. “Say ‘No’ 
once in a while; it will save you a lot of trouble.” 

“I cannot bear to deny the little darlings anything,” 
said Brown Hen, clucking her little brood and trying 
to quiet them. 

“Well, you better begin now, for this is one of the 
things you will not be able to do,” said White Hen, 


THE PINK AND BLUE EGGS 


53 


strutting over to the dog-house to tell the story of 
the blue and pink eggs to Towser. 

“Wouldn’t it be just too awful if the master puts 
those eggs in one of our nests?” asked White Hen, 
when she had finished her story. 

“ Oh — oh !” laughed Towser, “that is a good joke on 
you; don’t know your own eggs when you see them.” 

“Don’t tell me I laid those fancy-colored eggs,” 
said White Hen, looking around to see if any of her 
companions were within hearing distance. “I know 
I never did.” 

“But you did,” said Towser, laughing again. “I 
heard the master say to my little mistress, ‘If you 
want eggs to color for Easter take the ones that 
White Hen laid; they are not so large as the others, 
and I cannot sell them so well.’ ” 

“Towser, if you will never mention what you have 
just told me I will tell you where I saw a great big 
bone this morning,” said White Hen. “I was saving 
it for myself. I like to pick at one once in a while, 
but you shall have it if you promise to keep secret 
what you just told me.” 

Towser promised, and White Hen showed where it 
was hidden. 

A few days after Brown Hen said: “I wonder when 
master is going to bring out those fancy eggs. If he 
leaves them in the house much longer no one will be 
able to hatch them.” 

“Oh! I forgot to tell you that those eggs were not 


54 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


real eggs, after all,” said White Hen, “but only Easter 
eggs for the master’s little girl to play with, so we 
had all our worry for nothing. Towser told me, but 
don’t say a word to him, for I did not let on that we 
were worried and didn’t know they were only make- 
believe eggs; he thinks he is so wise, you know, it 
would never do to let him know how we were fooled.” 



WHY THE MORNING-GLORY SLEEPS 
NE day the flowers got into a very angry dis- 



cussion over the sun, of whom they were very 


fond. 


“Surely you all must know that he loves me best,” 
said the rose. “He shines upon me and makes me 
sweeter than any of you, and he gives me the colors 
that are most admired by man.” 

“I do not see how you can say that,” said the 
dahlia. “You may give forth more fragrance than 
I can, but you cannot think for a second that you are 
more beautiful. Why, my colors are richer than 
yours and last much longer! The sun certainly loves 
me the best.” 

The modest lily looked at the dahlia and said in a 
low, sweet voice, “I do not wish to be bold, but I 
feel that the sun loves me and that I should let you 
know that he gives to me more fragrance than to any 
of you.” 


/ 


56 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“Oh, oh! Hear lily!” said the others in chorus. 
“She thinks the king of day loves her best.” 

The lily hung her head and said no more, for the 
other flowers quite frightened her with their taunts. 

“How can any of you think you are the best be- 
loved of the sun?” said goldenglow. “When you 
behold my glowing color which the sun bestows on 
me, do any of you look so much like him as I do? 
No, indeed; he loves me best.” 

The hollyhock looked down on the others with 
pitying glances. “It is plain to be seen that you 
have never noticed that the sun shines on me with 
more warmth than on you, and now I must tell you 
he loves me best and gives me the tenderest of his 
smiles. See how tall I am and how gorgeous are my 
colors. He loves me best.” 

“When it comes to sweetness, I am sure you have 
forgotten me,” said the honeysuckle. “Why, the king 
of day loves me best, you may be sure! He makes 
me give forth more sweetness than any of you.” 

“You may be very sweet,” said the pansy, “but 
surely you know that my pet name is heart ’s-ease and 
that the sun loves me best. To none of you does he 
give such velvet beauty as to me. I am nearest his 
heart and his best beloved.” 

The morning-glory listened to all this with envy in 
her heart. She did not give forth sweetness, as many 
of the others, neither did she possess the beauty of 
the rose or the pansy. 


WHY THE MORNING-GLORY SLEEPS 57 


“ If only I could get him to notice me,” she thought. 
“I am dainty and frail, and I am sure he would admire 
me if only he could behold me; but the others are 
always here and in such glowing colors that poor little 
me is overshadowed by their beauty.” 

All day morning-glory thought of the sun and won- 
dered how she could attract his attention to herself, 
and at night she smiled, for she had thought of a plan. 
She would get up early in the morning and greet him 
before the other flowers were awake. 

She went to bed early that night so that she might 
not oversleep in the morning, and when the first streak 
of dawn showed in the sky morning-glory opened her 
eyes and shook out her delicate folds. The dew was 
on her and she turned her face toward the sun. 

As soon as she peeped into the garden the sun 
beheld her. “How dainty and lovely you are!” he 
said. “I have never noticed before the beauty of 
your colors, morning-glory,” and he let his warm 
glances fall and linger upon her. 

The sunflower all this time was watching with 
jealous eyes, for she was the one who had always 
welcomed the sun, and this morning he seemed to 
have entirely forgotten her. 

Still sunflower kept her gaze upon them and won- 
dered what she could do to win back her king from the 
delicate little morning-glory. 

But as she looked she saw the morning-glory sway 
and nod her head. “She is going to sleep,” said the 


58 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


sunflower; “his warm breath makes her drowsy, or 
else she was up so early that she cannot keep awake.” 

While the sunflower watched, sure enough the 
morning-glory nodded and closed her eyes. She was 
fast asleep, and the fickle sun, seeing that she no longer 
looked upon him, looked away and beheld the sun- 
flower looking toward him with longing eyes. 

“Good morning, King,” she said, as she caught his 
eye, and she was wise enough not to let him know she 
had seen him before. So the sun smiled and turned 
his face upon them all, and the sunflower kept to 
herself what she had seen, knowing full well that she 
was the one who knew best how to keep his first 
and last glances. 

A little later one of the flowers called out: “Look 
at morning-glory; she is still sleeping. Let us tell her 
it is time to awaken.” 

“Morning-glory! morning-glory!” they called, but 
she did not answer. She was sound asleep. 

“That is strange,” said the rose. “I wonder if 
she has gone to sleep never to awake. I have heard 
of such things happening.” 

After two or three mornings the other flowers ceased 
to notice morning-glory, for they thought she had 
ceased to be one of them, but the wise sunflower 
kept her own counsel. She knew that morning-glory 
had to sleep all day in order that she might not miss 
the sun; but, as I told you, she was wise enough not 
to complain, and she kept his love for her by so doing. 



DOROTHY AND THE PORTRAIT 

D OROTHY was very fond of her grandmother 
and grandfather, and liked to visit them, but 
there were no little girls to play with, and sometimes 
she was lonely for some one her own age. She would 
wander about the house looking for the queer things 
that grandmothers always have in their homes. The 
hall clock interested Dorothy very much. It stood 
on the landing at the top of the stairs, and she used 
to sit and listen to its queer tick-tock and watch the 
hands, which moved with little nervous jumps. Then 
there were on its face the stars and the moon and the 
sun, and they all were very wonderful to Dorothy. 
One day she went into the big parlor, where there 
were pictures of her grandfather and grandmother, 
and her great-grandfather and great-grandmother, 
also. 

Dorothy thought the “greats” looked very sedate, 
5 


6o 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


and she felt sure they must have been very old to 
have been the parents of her grandfather. But the 
picture that interested her the most was a large 
painting of three children, one a little girl about her 
own age, and one other older, and a boy, who wore 
queer-looking trousers, cut off below- the knee. His 
suit was of black velvet, and he wore white stockings 
and black shoes. The little girls were dressed in 
white, and their dresses had short sleeves and low 
necks. The older girl had black hair, but the one 
that Dorothy thought was her age had long, golden 
curls like hers, only the girl in the picture wore her 
hair parted, and the curls hung all about her face. 

Dorothy climbed into a big chair and sat looking 
at them. “I wish they could play with me,” she 
thought, and she smiled at the little golden-haired 
girl. And then, wonderful to tell, the girl in the 
picture smiled at Dorothy. 

“Oh! are you alive?” asked Dorothy. 

“Of course I am,” the little girl replied. “I will 
come down, if you would like to have me, and visit 
with you.” 

“Oh, I should be so glad to have you!” Dorothy 
answered. 

Then the boy stepped to the edge of the frame, and 
from there to the top of a big chair which stood under 
the picture, and stood in the chair seat. He held^ 
out his hand to the little girls and helped them to the 
floor in the most courtly manner. Dorothy got out 


DOROTHY AND THE PORTRAIT 


61 


of her chair and asked them to be seated, and the 
boy placed chairs for them beside her. 

“What is your name?” asked the golden-haired 
girl, for she was the only one who spoke. 

“That was my name,” she said, when Dorothy 
told her. “I lived in this house,” she continued, 
“and we used to have such good times. • This is my 
sister and my brother.” The little girl and boy 
smiled, but they let their sister do all the talking. 
“We used to roast chestnuts in the fireplace,” she 
said, “and once we had a party in this room, and 
played all sorts of games.” 

Dorothy could not imagine that quiet room filled 
with children. 

“Do you remember how we frightened poor old 
Uncle Zack in this room?” she said to her brother 
and sister, and then they all laughed. 

“Do tell me about it,” said Dorothy. 

“These glass doors by the fireplace did not have 
curtains in our day,” said the little girl, “and there 
were shells and other things from the ocean in one 
cupboard, and in the other there were a sword and a 
helmet and a pair of gauntlets. My brother wrapped 
a sheet around him and put on the helmet and the 
gauntlets, and, taking the sword in his hand, he 
climbed into the cupboard and sat down. We girls 
closed the doors and hid behind the sofa. Uncle 
Zack came in to fix the fire, and my brother beck- 
oned to him. Poor Zack dropped the wood he was 


62 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


carrying and fell on his knees, trembling with fright. 
The door was not fastened and my brother pushed 
it open apd pointed the sword at poor Uncle Zack. 

“ ‘Don’ hurt a po’ oT nigger,’ said Zack, very 
faintly, ‘I ’ain’ don’ noffin’, ’deed I ’ain’.’ 

“ ‘You told about the jam the children ate,’ said 
my brother, in a deep voice, ‘and you know you 
drank the last drop of rum Mammy Sue had for her 
rheumatism, and for this you must be punished,’ 
and he brought the sword down on the floor of the 
cupboard with a bang. 

“ Poor Uncle Zack fell on his face with fright. This 
was too much for my sister and me, and we laughed 
out. 

“You never saw any one change so quickly as 
Uncle Zack. He jumped up and we ran, but my 
brother had to get out of his disguise, and Uncle 
Zack caught him. He agreed not to tell our father 
if we did not tell about his fright, and so we escaped 
being punished.” 

“Tell me more about your life in this old house,” 
said Dorothy, when the little girl finished her story. 
But just then the picture of Dorothy’s great-grand- 
mother moved and out she stepped from her frame. 
She walked with a very stately air toward the children 
and put her hand on the shoulder of the little girl 
who had been telling the story, and said: “You 
better go back to your frame now.” 

“Oh dear!” said the little girl. “I did so dislike 


DOROTHY AND THE PORTRAIT 


6 3 


being grown up, and I had forgotten all about it, 
when my grown-up self reminds me. That is the 
trouble when you are in the room with your grown- 
up picture,” she told Dorothy. “You see, I had tp 
be so sedate after I married that I never even dared 
to think of my girlhood, but you come in here again 
some day and I will tell you more about the good 
times we had.” 

The boy mounted the chair first and helped his 
sisters back into the frame. Dorothy looked for her 
great-grandmother, but she, too, was back in her 
frame, looking as sedate as ever. The next day 
Dorothy asked her grandmother who the children 
were in the big picture. 

“This one,” she said, pointing to the little gold- 
en-haired girl, “was your great-grandmother; you 
were named for her; and the other little girl and 
boy were your grandfather’s aunt and uncle. They 
were your great-great-aunt and uncle.” 

Dorothy did not quite understand the “great- 
great” part of it, but she was glad to know that her 
stately-looking great-grandmother had once been a 
little girl like her, and some day, when the great- 
grandmother’s picture is not looking, she expects to 
hear more about the fun the children had in the days 
long ago. 



MISTRESS PUSSY’S MISTAKE 

A VERY kind gentleman, who lived in a big 
house which was in the midst of a beautiful 
park, had a handsome cat of which he was very fond. 
While he felt sure Pussy was fond of him, he knew 
very well she would hurt the birds, so he put a pretty 
ribbon around Pussy’s neck, and on it a little silver 
bell which tinkled whenever she moved and this 
warned the birds that she was near. 

Pussy resented this, but pretended she did not 
care. One day a thrush was singing very sweetly on 
the bough of a tree which overhung a small lake. 
Pussy walked along under the tree, and, looking up 
at the thrush, said: “Madam Thrush, you have a 
most beautiful voice, and you are a very handsome 
bird. I do wish I were nearer to you, for I am not 
so young as I was once, and I cannot hear so well.” 
The thrush trilled a laugh at Pussy, and said: 


MISTRESS PUSSY’S MISTAKE 


65 


“Yes, Miss Puss, I can well believe you wish me 
nearer, but not to see or hear me better, but that 
you might grasp me.” 

Pussy pretended not to hear the last remark, but 
said: “ My beautiful Thrush, will you not come down 
where I can hear you better? I cannot get about as 
nimbly as I used to when I was young, or I would 
go to you.” 

“I cannot sing so well on the ground,” replied the 
thrush. “You can come up here, even if you are not 
so spry as you were. But tell me, do you not find 
the bell you wear very trying to your nerves?” 

“Oh no,” answered sly Pussy. “It is so pretty 
that I’m glad to wear it, and my master thinks I am 
so handsome that he likes to see me dressed well. 
And then he can always find me when he hears the 
bell. That is why I wear it.” 

“I understand,” answered the thrush, “and we 
birds are always glad to hear it, too.” And she 
trilled another laugh at Pussy and added, “You are 
certainly a very handsome creature, Miss Puss.” 

Pussy all this time had very slowly climbed the 
tree, for she wanted the thrush to think she was old 
and slow, but the bird had her bright eyes upon her. 
When Pussy reached the branch the thrush was on 
she stopped and seated herself. 

“Now, my pretty little friend, do sing to me your 
loudest song.” 

She hoped it would be loud enough to drown the 


66 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


tinkle of the bell. The thrush began and was soon 
singing very sweetly. Pussy took a very cautious 
step and then remained quiet. The thrush stopped 
singing and spread her wings. 

“Oh, do not stop!” said Puss. “Your song was so 
soothing I was in a doze; do sing again.” And she 
moved a little closer. 

The thrush took a step nearer to the end of the 
bough and said: “I am glad you like my voice. I 
will sing again if it pleases you so much.” 

She began her song, but she kept her eyes on Puss, 
and as Puss drew nearer she moved closer to the end 
of the swinging bough. 

She had reached a very high note when Puss gave 
a spring, but the thrush was too quick; she flew out 
of Pussy’s reach, and splash went Pussy into the lake, 
for she had not noticed that the thrush was moving 
to the end of the bough, so intent was she on the 
thought of catching her. 

Poor Pussy was very wet when she scrambled to 
the bank of the lake, and the birds were chirping and 
making a great noise. 

“How did you like your bath, Miss Puss?” the 
thrush called to her. “You should never lay traps 
for others, for often you fall into them yourself.” 



KID 

K ID was one of those little boys who seemed to 
have grown up on the streets of the big city 
where he lived. 

He never remembered a mother or a father, and no 
one ever took care of him. His first remembrance 
was of an old woman who gave him a crust of bread, 
and he slept in the comer of her room. One day they 
carried her away, and since then Kid had slept in a 
doorway or an alley. 

By selling papers he managed to get enough to 
eat, and if he did not have the money he stole to 
satisfy his hunger. 

He was often cold and hungry, but he saw many 
other children that were in the same condition, and 
he did not suppose that any one ever had enough to 
eat or a warm place to sleep every night. 

Kid went in to the Salvation Army meetings, when 


68 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


they held them in his neighborhood, because it was 
a place where the wind did not blow, and while there 
he heard them sing and talk about Some One who 
loved everybody and would help you if only you 
would ask Him. Kid was never able to find out just 
where this Person lived, and, therefore, he could not 
ask for v help. 

One day Kid saw a lady who was too well dressed 
to belong in his part of the city, and he followed her, 
thinking that she might have a pocket-book he could 
take. The opportunity did not offer itself, however, 
and before Kid realized it he was in a part of the city 
he had never seen before. 

The buildings were tall and the streets much 
cleaner than where he lived. Kid walked along, look- 
ing in windows of the stores, when he noticed a lady 
standing beside him with a jeweled watch hanging 
from her belt. 

He had never seen anything so beautiful or so 
easy to take, and he waited for a few more people 
to gather around the window, and then he care- 
fully reached for the watch, and with one pull 
off came the trinket, and away ran Kid, like a 
deer, with the watch clasped firmly in his begrimed 
little hand. 

On and on he ran, not knowing where he was 
going — nor caring, for that matter — and it seemed to 
Kid that the whole world was crying, “Stop, thief!” 
and was chasing him. 


KID 


69 


After a while the noise grew fainter and fainter and 
he stopped and looked back. There was not a person 
in sight. 

Kid looked around him. All the houses were large 
with clean stone steps in front of them. Kid sat 
down on the bottom step of one of these houses and 
looked at his treasure. 

He held it to his ear and heard its soft tick, then he 
looked at the sparkling stones on the case. He 
opened it and watched the little hands move, then 
he opened the back part, and there was the picture 
of a baby, a little boy, Kid thought. Around its 
chubby face were curls, and its eyes were large and 
eamest-ldoking. Kid sat gazing at it for some 
minutes, wondering who it was. When he looked up 
he saw a large building across the street with a 
steeple on it, and on the top of that a cross. 

The door of the building was open, and after a 
while Kid walked across the street and up the long, 
wide steps. He went in and looked cautiously about. 
It was still and no one was to be seen. 

There were two doors, and Kid went to one of them 
and pushed it open. He thought for a minute he 
was dreaming, for he did not suppose that anything 
so grand could be real. 

There were rpws and rows of seats, and at the very 
end of the big room Kid saw a light. He walked down 
one of the aisles to where the little flame was burning, 
and stood in front of the altar. 


70 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


Kid looked at everything with a feeling of awe, 
but he had not the slightest idea bf what it all meant, 
and he wondered who lived in this beautiful house, 
and thought it strange that no one appeared and 
told him to go out. 

There were pictures on the wall and Kid came to 
one of a sweet-faced lady who was holding a little 
child. Kid started and stepped back as he looked at 
it. “It is the baby in the watch,” he said.* “This 
must be where he lives and that is his mother.” 
Some one was coming. He was caught at last, he felt 
sure. He slid into a pew and crawled under the seat 
and kept very still — so still, in fact, that he fell asleep. 
When he awoke a light was burning in the church 
and its rays fell across the picture of the mother 
and child in such a way that the eyes of the 
mother seemed to be looking straight at Kid under 
the seat. 

For the first time in his life he felt like crying. 
“I wish I had a mother,” he thought, “and I should 
like to have her hold me in her arms just as that 
little boy’s mother is holding him. I would tell her 
about this watch and perhaps she would tell me how 
to get it back to the lady.” 

Kid crept from under the seat and stood up, and 
coming toward him down the aisle was a man. Kid 
thought he wore a queer-looking costume, and he 
dodged back of the seat; but the man had seen him 
and there was no use in trying to run away; besides 


KID 


7i 


that, Kid was not at all sure that he wished to get 
away. 

“Is this your house?” asked Kid, when the man 
came up to him. 

“No, my son,” he replied; “this is the house of 
God.” 

Kid’s heart leaped for joy; that was the name of 
the One the Salvation Army people told him about, 
who loved everybody and helped you. 

“If you please,” said Kid, “I should like to see 
Him.” 

The good man looked at Kid very earnestly, and 
then he said, “If you will tell me what you wish to 
see Him about, I am sure I can help you.” 

Kid told him about the watch and that he felt sure 
the lady lived there, as the baby in the big picture 
was very much like the picture in the watch. “And 
if this is God’s house,” said Kid, “I thought He 
might be the father and forgive me. I am very 
sorry that I took it.” 

The good man took Kid by the hand. “ Come with 
me,” he said; “you are forgiven, I am sure.” 

Kid was given a good supper, and for the first time 
in his life he slept in a real bed. 

The next day the good man found the owner of 
the watch, and when she heard Kid’s story she 
forgave him. 

Kid was placed in a school, where he learned to be 
a good boy, as well as to be studious, and he soon 


72 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


forgot the old life. He grew to be a man of whom 
any mother could have been proud. But the only 
mother Kid ever knew was the mother of the little 
boy in the picture, which he cherishes as a thing 
sacred in his life. 



THE SHOEMAKER RAT 
NE day a rat gnawed his way into a pantry, and 



W after he had eaten all he wanted he grew bold 
and went into the kitchen. 

There the cook saw him and chased him with a 
broom, but, not being able to hit him as he ran out 
of the door, she picked up a pair of shoes that were 
standing near and threw them after him. 

The rat picked them up and put them on. On his 
way home he met a cat. “What have you on your 
feet?” he asked the rat. 

“Can you not see, my dear Tom?” said the rat. 
“They are shoes. I am a shoemaker, and, of course, 
must wear my own product.” 

“Make me a pair,” said the cat, “and I will spare 
your life.” 

“Very well,” replied the rat, “but first you must 
bring me some leather.” 

So the cat ran away and brought back two hides. 


74 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


When the rat saw the amount of leather he was 
struck with an idea. “My dear Tom,” he said, “I 
can make you a suit of clothes and a pair of gloves 
as well as the shoes, and you will be the envy of all 
the other cats.” 

Tom was delighted and told the rat to hurry and 
make the outfit. 

The wise rat first made the gloves and covered 
Tom’s sharp claws. Then he made the shoes for the 
hind feet, and when he had that done he felt safe. 

“Now you must wait,” he said,* “until I get some- 
thing with which I can fasten the coat.” He ran 
away and returned with some long, sharp thorns. 

Next the rat put the leather around Tom’s body 
and drew it tight, fastening it with a thorn which 
he pushed so that the sharp point pricked Tom. 

“What are you doing?” asked Tom, angry at being 
hurt; but he could not move, the leather costume 
was so stiff and tight, but he grabbed at the rat with 
his mouth, and caught him by the tail. 

The rat ran, leaving his tail in Tom’s mouth. 

“I’ll know you,” Tom called after him. “When I 
am out of this suit I will catch you and eat you.” 

The rat had not thought of that and he wondered 
what he should do, but he was a wise old fellow, and 
when he reached home he called all his brothers and 
sisters and cousins and aunts about him. 

“I met a cat to-day,” he said, “who had been to 
the city where all the styles are new, and he told me 


THE SHOEMAKER RAT 


75 


that all the city rats are having their tails cut off, so 
I had mine done. If you want to be in style,” he 
told them, “you must have your tails like mine.” 

“Does it hurt?” asked one. 

“Not a bit,” answered the sly fellow, “and you 
have no idea how comfortable it is running about 
without a tail to look after. It is very expensive to 
have it cut,” he explained; “that is the only difficult 
part. I had to pay twenty pieces of cheese. But I 
watched while another fellow was having his cut, and 
I am sure I can do it as well as the rat that did mine. 
And if you wish to be in style at a very low rate I will 
take off your tails for five pieces of cheese each.” 

The rats all agreed, and ran away to get the cheese, 
and while they were gone the wise rat ran for a chop- 
ping-knife. 

Soon he had the tails cut and a goodly store of 
cheese. “Now,” he said to himself, “Tom will never 
know me from the other rats.” 

He kept his eyes open for Tom, who had called his 
friends to help him out of his suit and told them to 
watch for a rat without a tail. But when they saw 
all the tailless rats they gave up looking for one who 
had put Tom into the suit of leather, and Tom, not 
liking to hunt any too well, gave it up also. “But 
the next time I meet a rat,” said Tom, “I will catch 
him, no matter whether he has a tail or not.” 

6 



THE POPPIES 

A LONG distance from here, in a far Eastern 
country, there once lived a very rich king. 
All kings are not rich, you know, but this one was, 
and his jewels were the most beautiful ever seen. 

But this king dearly loved all the good things of 
this world and gave feasts and dances that lasted for 
days without any one sleeping. Of course he could 
not lead such a life as that and have good health, 
and at last there came a time when the king could 
not sleep. 

At last he offered a reward to any one who could 
put him to sleep, no matter how it was accomplished. 
He said to the one who could do this he would give 
half his kingdom. 

The poor king was the subject for many experi- 
ments, and when he had almost given up hope of ever 
sleeping again there came a strange-looking man to 


THE POPPIES 


77 


the gate of the castle. He wore a turban and a long, 
flowing robe of white, and wore around his neck 
many chains and strings of queer-looking beads. 

“I can make the king sleep,” he said, “but I must 
be allowed to have the grounds of the castle to myself 
and the king must obey me in every way.” 

The king was ready to do anything, and so the 
strange-looking man began his work, but before he 
would do anything for the king he insisted upon 
having half the kingdom given into his hands, and 
when this was done he set to work. No one was 
allowed to be near him, and the king was left alone 
in the castle with him. 

One morning, not long after, the king saw what 
looked to be a sea of green all around the castle, 
but it really was a bed of green leaves, and soon 
there appeared white flowers among the leaves, 
and then the strange man told the king to walk 
among them. 

Soon the king felt a drowsy feeling stealing over 
him, and he sat down in the midst of the sea of green 
and in a few minutes he was sound asleep. 

Then the strange man began to repeat something 
in a sing-song tone and wave his hands over the 
sleeping king. He walked among the leaves and 
flowers, repeating his queer rhyme, and the leaves 
and flowers grew taller and taller until the king 
could not be seen, and the man moved away, still 
chanting : 


78 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“Poppy, poppy, flower of sleep, 

Your drowsy spell around him keep, 

For I can all his kingdom take 
If you do not let him wake.” 

The poppies grew until they reached the top of 
the castle, and every one who went near to look for 
the king fell under the spell of their strange power 
until the people around gave it up and the strange 
man became king ; he built a new castle and the old 
one was forgotten. 

All went well with the new king until a young man 
called at his castle and asked him about the old king, 
and the servants told him how the strange flowers 
had grown around the castle and no one could go 
near, and that every one thought that the old king 
was dead. 

The new king, when he heard that the stranger was 
asking for the old king, had him driven from the castle. 

“Tell your master,” said the stranger to the ser- 
vants, “that he will hear from me again.” 

The stranger went into the woods, where there 
lived an old witch, and at midnight they came out 
and went to the castle among the strange flowers. 

The witch held her hands high over her head and 
waved them up and down, saying all the time: 

“Poppy, poppy, sleepy flower, 

Now I have you in my power. 

I would have you shorter grow 
Until the sleeping one you show.” 


THE POPPIES 


79 


Down came the tall flowers and bushes until the 
young man cried out, “Here he is,” and then the 
flowers ceased to grow small. The witch knelt beside 
the sleeping king and whispered in his ear: 

“Awake, good king, ’tis break of day, 

And drive the false king far away.” 

The king opened his eyes and looked at the witch 
and the young man beside her. “What has hap- 
pened?” he asked. 

“I will leave you to tell him,” said the witch. 
“The sun is up and I must go.” 

“When you offered to give half your kingdom to 
the one who could make you sleep,” said the young 
man, “I set out for your castle with a box which 
contained a strange flower that had the power to 
make people sleep, but it had to be used with 
the greatest care, and I alone knew the secret of 
using it, for it was given to my grandmother by an 
old witch doctor. 

“Before I could reach you I was overtaken by a 
band of robbers and the box stolen. They made me 
tell what I intended doing with the flower, on pain of 
death, but I did not tell the whole secret. Then they 
put me in a cave and rolled a stone in front of it too 
heavy for me to move, and left. I was almost dead 
from starvation when I was found by some peasants, 
who nursed me until I was well enough to travel, 
when I hurried here, only to find that one of the band 


8o 


THE . SANDMAN’S HOUR 


of robbers had taken your whole kingdom after put- 
ting you to sleep with the charmed flower. 

“He drove me from the castle when he heard that 
I was asking for you, and if it had not been for the 
witch who lives in the wood I should not have been 
able to awaken you. She knew the secret, as she is the 
daughter of; the witch who gave the flower to my 
grandmother.” 

When the king heard the strange story he hurried 
with the young man to the castle where the robber 
king lived. He was asleep .when they arrived, and 
the servants, who did not like their new master, ran 
out to meet the old king, and when they heard what 
had happened they went back to the castle and 
bound the robber while he slept, and when he awoke 
he was so frightened that he promised to tell where 
the rest of his band could be found if they would 
spare his life. 

This they promised to do, and the country was rid 
of these bad men, for they were put on a ship and 
made to work the rest of their lives. 

The king was so grateful to the young man who 
rescued him that he made him his heir, and when the 
king died he left him his kingdom. 



LITTLE CHINA DOLL 

I N a shop window sat a little China Doll. She had 
been in the store so long she could not remember 
ever living in any other place. 

Long, long ago there were other china dolls, but 
one by one some little girl had carried them away 
and she was left alone. China Doll had black painted 
hair and big, staring eyes, and her lips and cheeks 
were very red. Her body was filled with sawdust 
and her hands and arms to the elbow were china, as 
were her feet and legs to her knees. 

By and by wax dolls came to the store; they had 
real hair, all curls, and eyes that would open and 
close, and poor China Doll was set back in the 
window, and after a while she was put in a box on 
the shelf and taken out only once a year — at Christ- 
mas-time — when she was dusted and put in the 
window again. She felt very lonely with so many 
stylish wax dolls, and as she had given up hope of 


82 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


ever being chosen by any little girl, she was glad when 
the little old lady who kept the store put her back 
in the box on the shelf. 

At last there came a time when the children no 
longer came to the store, but went to the big city 
for their toys, and China Doll and the little old store- 
keeper grew old together. 

China Doll sat in the window all the time now, 
with tape and thread and other useful things, but 
was the only thing little folk could want. 

One day in summer a tally-ho stopped in front 
of the store, and a party of young people came in. 
They bought a number of things and filled the 
old store with their laughter. Suddenly the pret- 
tiest girl reached into the window and took out 
China Doll. “Oh, you dear, quaint little doll!” she 
said. “My grandmother has one just like this, girls, 
and I have asked her many times to give it to me to 
make a French pincushion, but she will not let me 
have it.” 

Oh, how China Doll’s heart beat! Could it be true 
that she was going at last? Yes, the pretty girl 
bought her and took her away on the tally-ho. 

The next day she dressed China Doll in the prettiest 
silk dress, such a one as she had dreamed of years 
ago, with an overskirt and puffed sleeves. Then she 
made her the dearest poke-bonnet trimmed with 
little roses. She also made her a pair of kid boots. 

When China Doll was all dressed the pretty girl 


LITTLE CHINA DOLL 


83 


put a ribbon over her arm, and on each end was a 
little bandbox. Then she stood China Doll on her 
dressing-table and used the little boxes for pincush- 
ions. And there China Doll lived a very happy life, 
which teaches that all things come to those who wait. 



THE DISORDERLY GIRL 

L OUISE was just going out of the door with her 
/ sled when her mother called to her. Louise 
hesitated, for she knew that her mother was calling 
her to make her play-room tidy and she wanted to go 
coasting with the other children. 

She went back slowly and asked, “What is it, 
mother?” 

“Your play-room must be put in order before you 
can go out to play,” her mother replied. “You have 
had plenty of time this week to do it, but you have 
neglected it, and now you cannot put it off another 
day.” 

“Why can’t Jane do it?” asked Louise. 

“Jane will clean the room,” her mother replied, 
“but it is your duty to pick up the books and toys 
that are strewn around.” 

Louise pouted, but she knew that she must do as 
her mother said, and she took off her hat and coat 


THE DISORDERLY GIRL 


85 


and went up to her play-room. She went in and 
closed the door. It certainly was a very disorderly- 
looking room. Books were on the floor and games 
were on the table, doll clothes were strewn in all 
parts of the room. 

Louise had picked up most of the things when she 
saw from the window her little friend Clara passing 
the house. “Clara!” she called, “wait for me, I have 
to put my play-room in order before I can go coast- 
ing.” But Clara would not wait. 

Louise closed the window, threw herself on the 
couch, and began to cry, saying she thought it was 
mean everybody was going coasting but her. 

All at once she saw two little girls walking toward 
her. They looked just like her dolls — Bella and Emily 
— only they were as large as herself. 

Louise tried to get up, but she was unable to move. 

“Let us undress her,” said Bella Doll, coming over 
to Louise and lifting her by one arm. 

“Yes,” said Emily Doll, “and comb her hair.” 

Then Louise knew what had happened — she had 
turned into a doll and the dolls had become little 
girls. 

The doll girls undressed Louise and put on her 
nightdress, pulling it over her head in the most care- 
less manner, Louise thought. Then they combed her 
hair, pulling it terribly. 

“I wonder how she likes to have her hair pulled,” 
said Bella Doll. 


86 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“She knows how it feels, now,” said Emily. 

“I think she better go out,” said Bella Doll, “in- 
stead of going to bed,” and they dressed her in a thin 
white dress. “Now we will take her out in the cold; 
that is the way she does with us.” 

They fastened her clothes with pins and pushed 
them right through her body, and after she was 
dressed they changed their minds about taking her 
out and threw her on the floor and began playing 
games. 

“I wonder if they are going to leave me here,” 
thought Louise. “Some one will be sure to step on 
me.” Just then she saw a Teddy Bear lying on his 
side under the couch. “Why are you under there?” 
Louise asked. 

“The little girl who was playing with me dropped 
me back of the couch a week ago,” he said, “and I 
have been here ever since, and you will probably 
remain on the floor where you are now, for she never 
picks up her toys. She is a very careless girl.” 

Louise did not reply, for just then Emily Doll came 
over to the couch for a book and pushed Louise out 
of the way with her foot. Bella Doll set out a croquet 
set and one of the balls hit Louise on the head. Then 
Emily dropped her book and said: “Come along, 
Bella, let us go outdoors.” 

Louise watched them as they went out. “Oh, 
this is the way she always leaves her room,” said 
Teddy Bear, for he could not see from under the 


THE DISORDERLY GIRL 


87 


couch there were two little girls, and thought it was 
Louise who went out of the door. “She never thinks 
of us,” the Teddy Bear continued, “or how uncom- 
fortable we may be, for she is a very careless and 
untidy girl.” 

The door opened and Bella Doll came in. She went 
over to the couch for her hat and Louise saw her foot 
over her head. “She will break me if she steps on 
me,” cried poor Louise, and she jumped up as she 
cried aloud. There she was on the couch. She had 
been asleep. She got up and finished her work, when 
suddenly she thought of the Teddy Bear, and looked 
under the couch. There he was on his side just as 
she had seen him in her dream. Louise picked him 
up and set him in a chair; then she looked at Bella’s 
clothes to make sure there were no pins pricking her, 
and after looking at Emily also she put both of them 
in a comfortable place. Her books were put on a 
shelf, and she resolved never again to let her room get 
so untidy or to let her dolls or Teddy Bear suffer 
from neglect. “Perhaps they do feel things,” she 
said. “Anyway, I’ll be sure not to hurt them or let 
them be in uncomfortable positions, for I was very 
miserable lying on the floor thinking I might be 
stepped upon.” 



THE WISE OLD GANDER 
NCE there lived a farmer who was not a good 



V-/ caretaker. He did not have a house for the hens 
and chickens and geese and ducks, and Old Fox, who 
lived in a hole over the hill, never had any trouble in 
getting a nice goose or a fat hen for his supper or 
breakfast. 

“Something must be done at once,” said Madam 
Goose. “There will be no one left in the whole yard 
if this keeps on. Why, only last night Madam Gray 
Hen was carried off and she has left all those little 
chicks; it is really too awful to think of.” 

“But what can we do?” asked Gray Goose. “The 
rooster does not know, for I heard one of his family 
ask him, and he only said the master should take 
better care of us.” 

“So he should,” replied Madam Goose, “but he 
doesn’t, so we must care for ourselves unless we wish 


THE WISE OLD GANDER 89 

to be carried off, too. Let us go to the gander; he 
may be able to help us.” 

“Come with us,” they called to the rooster and 
black hen who were talking together; “we are going 
to see the gander and ask him to help us to be rid of 
Old Fox over the hill.” 

The gander stretched out his neck and blinked his 
eyes as he listened to their tale of woe. 

“You are right, something must be done,” he said; 
“and you are quite right in coming to me also. I 
will think over the matter and give you my advice 
later.” 

“Later!” screamed Madam Goose. “Later there 
will be no need for advice; there will be no one to 
give it or to advise. What we need is advice at once, 
and something that will rid us of Old Fox under the 
hill. He is eating the whole yard, one by one.” 

“Well, well,” answered the gander, standing on 
one foot and then on the other. “I will think over 
the matter for a short time and then tell you my 
decision. You know, my dear madam, that great 
minds must have quiet to think out important 
matters. Leave me, I beg of you all, for a little while.” 

As soon as the gander was alone he waddled over 
to the pig-pen. “Mr. Pig,” he said, “I am going to 
ask your advice. Old Fox over the hill is carrying 
off all the fowls and something must be done.” 

“Ugh, ugh,” grunted the pig. “I can tell you 
what will frighten him away. I will stay awake to- 


90 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


night and grunt at him; he will know better than to 
linger where I am.” 

“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Pig,” said the gander, 
backing away from the pig-pen. “I will tell my 
friends, and I am sure they will feel safe to-night.” 

“Conceited fellow,” said the gander. “I guess it 
will take more than his grunts to scare that foxy 
fellow.” 

Then he went to the donkey. “He isn’t very 
wise,” thought the gander, “but sometimes those 
who have the least wisdom speak wisdom without 
knowing it. 

“Mr. Donkey, I have come to ask your advice. 
Old Fox is carrying off our hens and geese. Something 
must be done to stop him, or soon there will be none 
left.” 

“Quite so; quite so. I see; I see, Mr. Gander,” 
said the donkey. “You have come to the right place 
for advice. Now go back to your friends and tell 
them to have no fear; I will take the matter in hand.” 

“But what are you going to do?” asked the gander. 

“Why, my dear sir, I am going to bray at Old Fox 
when he comes. I am going to bray at him, and you 
will see he will not stay long when he hears my 
commanding voice.” 

“Oh, how can I ever thank you?” said the gander, 
walking away. “I will tell my friends at once that 
yoq. will take care of them to-night.” 

“Foolish old donkey,” said the gander to himself. 


THE WISE OLD GANDER 


9i 


“I guess Old Fox has heard a donkey bray before 
this. I’ll try the cow next. 

“ Madam Cow, Old Fox is carrying off all the fowls, 
one by one, and if something is not done at once to 
stop him, there will be none of us left. What would 
you advise?” 

“Oh, don’t ask me, Mr. Gander,” said the cow. 
“All I can do is to moo, and Old Fox would no more 
mind that than the wind blowing. I wish I were wise 
enough to advise you, but I am not. But if I can 
help you in any way let me know.” 

“Thank you, Madam Cow,” said the gander, 
waddling away. “You may hear from me. We never 
can tell when we shall need the help of our friends.” 

The next one the gander visited was the cat. 

“Can you help me, Madam Puss?” began the 
gander. “We fowls are all in trouble; Old Fox carries 
off one or more of our number every night, and some- 
thing must be done to stop it at once.” 

The cat opened her mouth very wide and yawned, 
and the gander wondered if he had been wise, after all, 
in asking her for advice in this matter. 

But Puss closed her mouth with a snap and sat up. 

“Of course I can help you,” she said. “Did you 
ever see my claws?” 

The gander backed away as Puss held them up to 
his view. 

The gander confessed that he had not and Puss 
went on: “Well, leave it to me to protect the bam- 
7 


92 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


yard; that dog Rover never seems to think about 
anything but eating and sleeping. I will yowl and 
spit at Old Fox when he comes to-night, and I can 
tell you and your friends he will not come again.” 

“Thank you, thank you, Madam Puss,” said the 
gander, running away. 

“My, but that was a narrow escape for me!” said 
the gander. “She positively looks awful when she 
opens her mouth. I seem to be getting advice, but 
not the kind that will save my friends; they all feel 
sure they can scare Old Fox, but not one of them will 
be able to; I don’t know that all of them together 
would — ” 

The gander stopped still and held up his head. “ I 
have it,” he said, “I have the very plan; I will get 
them all together and each shall do his part. I be- 
lieve we can scare Old Fox away for good and all 
time.” 

The gander went to the dog and he promised to 
bark. “Of course, there is no need of having the 
others around if I do that,” said the dog. “But bring 
them along if you like; every little helps.” 

That night the donkey, the dog, the cat, the cow, 
and the pig were gathered in the barnyard; each 
one protested that the others were not needed, all 
but the cow; she was modest, and said she would 
help. Then the rooster came and offered to crow 
and the geese were to quack. 

“Now you all must hide,” said the gander, “and 


THE WISE OLD GANDER 


93 


don’t move until Old Fox gets right in the middle of 
the yard; then jump up and do your worst.” 

Old Fox waited until it was very late, and then 
crept over the hill and up to the farm. He listened, 
and, hearing no sound, he crept into the barnyard. 
He was just about to reach a fat goose when all the 
animals began. The dog barked, the pig squealed, 
the donkey brayed, the cow mooed, the geese quacked, 
the rooster crowed, and Puss, true to her word, yowled 
and sprang at Old Fox, who was so frightened at the 
terrible noise he forgot to run until Puss struck at 
him with her sharp claws ; then he took to his swiftest 
speed, and away he went over the hill and far away, 
and was never again seen near that farm. 

He told some of his friends that a most horrible 
animal lived there and must have eaten all the hens 
and geese and was big enough to eat them, for he 
saw at least twenty feet and claws and heads of all 
sizes. 



DINAH CAT AND THE WITCH 
NCE upon a time there was a little girl named 



Betty. She was an orphan, and a bad landlord 
turned her out of her home. The only friend she 
had was a black cat named Dinah. Betty was 
crying as she walked along the road, and Dinah 
Cat ran beside her, rubbing against her feet. All 
at once she ran in front of Betty and stood on 
her hind legs. “Do not cry, mistress.” she said. 
“I’ll take care of you.” 

Betty was so surprised to hear Dinah Cat speak 
that she stopped crying at once. “You poor Dinah 
Cat,” she said, “what can you do? We must go to 
the city, and if I can find work we shall be able to 
live; if not, you must take care of yourself, for you 
can catch mice and keep from starving.” 

‘You come with me, mistress,” answered Dinah 
Cat, “and you will not need to work and you will 
not starve.” And she put out her paw for Betty to 


DINAH CAT AND THE WITCH 


95 


take and walked alongside her. When they came to 
a path leading into the wood Dinah Cat led Betty 
along this path until they were in front of two very 
large trees which had grown together, but there was 
a big opening in the trunk. “We’ll go in here,” said 
Dinah Cat, and as they stepped through they were 
in a hall. She led Betty up the stairs to a room where 
there was a snowy- white bed and pretty furnishings. 
“Dinner will be served as soon as you are dressed, 
mistress,” said Dinah Cat. 

After she had gone Betty looked around, and in 
the closets she found pretty dresses which just fitted 
her. She put on one of them, and in a few minutes 
she was ready for dinner. Just then she heard a soft, 
scratching noise at the door, and when she opened it 
Dinah Cat walked in. 

“How do you like your new home, mistress?” 
she asked. 

“Very much,” Betty answered. “But we cannot 
live in such a nice house. We have no money, and, 
besides that, this house must belong to some one. 
And this dress I have on must belong to some little 
girl. I should not wear it.” 

“The dress did belong to a little girl,” said Dinah 
Cat, “but she cannot wear it now, and she wants 
you to have it. And do not fret about the house. It 
belongs to me. I cannot tell you any more just now, 
but you need not worry any more about anything, 
for you are to live here, if you wish, after you have 


96 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


dinner, for then you will meet a boy, and you may 
not like him.” 

Dinah Cat led Betty into a room where the table 
was set for three persons, and when they were seated 
a boy about Betty’s age came in and sat with them. 
He wore his hat, and a thick veil hung from it. 

“I am sorry I cannot remove my hat,” he said, in 
a very sweet voice, “and I will go away if you’d rather 
I would.” 

“Oh no,” said Betty, feeling very much like an 
intruder. “I am very grateful to you for letting me 
stay, and I will help to do the work.” 

“You do not need to work,” said the boy. “If 
you will stay we will be very glad.” 

Betty did not once get a glimpse of his face, he 
lifted the veil so carefully. And there sat Dinah Cat, 
using her knife and fork like any lady. Betty smiled 
to herself when she thought of her eating from a 
saucer. 

Suddenly Dinah Cat slid out of her chair and 
crawled under it, and the little boy trembled so that 
his chair shook. Betty looked around to find the 
cause of their strange behavior, and saw standing in 
the doorway an old woman with a staff in her hand. 
She hobbled over to where Dinah Cat sat and raised 
the staff. Betty thought she was going to strike her. 

“Don’t you hurt Dinah Cat!” she cried, running 
toward the old witch, who was so startled that she 
dropped the staff, and Betty picked it up. 


DINAH CAT AND THE WITCH 


97 


“Don’t let her have it again,’’ said the boy; “that 
is the cause of all our trouble.’’ 

Betty threw the staff in a closet and locked the door. 
All this time the witch was stepping backward toward 
the door by which she entered, and she grew smaller 
with each step. By the time she was out of the house 
she looked like a black speck, and a breeze blowing 
just then carried her out of sight. “But how shall 
we ever be ourselves again?” said the boy. “She 
has gone, and here we are, in this state.” 

“Perhaps the stick will do it,” said Dinah Cat. 

Betty wondered what they meant, and the boy told 
her that Dinah Cat was his sister before the witch 
changed her into a cat, and made his face so hideous 
that he had to wear a veil, and they had lived very 
happily together. “But one day the old witch came 
and wanted to live with us, and we let her for a while, 
but she was so cross and made us so unhappy we told 
her she must go away. Then she brought all this 
change upon us, and every once in a while she re- 
turns and frightens us, for we do not know what she 
will change us into next.” 

“Let me get the stick,” said Betty. “Perhaps we 
can change Dinah Cat to your sister again.” 

Betty opened the door of the closet, and instead of 
the stick there was a bright streak of light, and walk- 
ing on it was a little Fairy who held a wand in her 
hand. 

“You will soon be happy again,” she told them. 


9 8 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“I have destroyed the stick and the old witch will 
never return.” 

Then she walked over to Dinah Cat and touched 
her with her wand and there stood a little girl about 
Betty’s age in place of the black cat. 

“Now close your eyes,” said the Fairy, “for I 
want the boy to remove his veil, and his face is not 
pleasant to look upon.” 

Betty did as the Fairy told her, but I am sorry to 
tell you that she peeked a very little. Betty closed 
her eyes tight after the first glimpse and waited for 
the Fairy to tell her to open them again, and when 
she did there stood the boy with a very smiling face. 
His sister ran to him and put her arms around him. 
“Now we shall be happy,” she said, “and Betty will 
live with us. How can we thank you?” she asked 
the Fairy. 

“Oh, I shall be repaid by seeing you all happy,” 
the Fairy replied. “And now I must go.” 

“Will we see you again?” asked Betty. 

“No,” answered the Fairy. “I only appear when 
people are in trouble, and you will never need me 
again.” 



THE STAR AND THE LILY 
NCE there bloomed in a garden a beautiful white 



V_y lily, on a long stalk so tall that she towered over 
all the flowers that bloomed near her. 

Of course, the sunflowers at the back of the garden 
were much taller and the hollyhocks that grew in 
front of the sunflowers were taller, too, and also the 
sweet peas. But they were not near the beautiful 
lily. Beside her bloomed pansies and poppies, and 
many other beautiful flowers, but they were not so 
tall as the lily. 

A rose-bush growing near the lily noticed that she 
drooped and did not look as happy as usual one 
morning, and she asked what had happened. 

“Oh, I am thinking of some one I love,” answered 
the lily, with a sigh. 

“That should not bring a sigh or make you look 


IOO 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


sad, my fair friend,” said the rose. “Love should 
make you happier than anything else in the world.” 

“Yes, I suppose it should,” answered the lily, 
“but my love is so far away I am not sure that I am 
loved in return.” 

“Oh, immodest lily!” said the rose. “I thought 
you the most modest of all of us, and here you are in 
love with some one you do not know. Tell me about 
it, do?” said the rose, alert with interest. 

“I will tell you, dear rose,” said the lily, “and per- 
haps you can tell me how to win the love of my 
beloved, or how I can overcome my great love for 
him.” 

“I will do anything I can for you, my dear,” said 
the rose, “but do tell me quick all about your love- 
story.” 

“One night,” began the lily, “when everything was 
quiet in the garden and all the other flowers were 
fast asleep, I happened to raise my head and open 
my petals. The moonlight was streaming .over the 
garden, and I looked around at all the sleeping flowers 
and wondered how I happened to awake at that hour, 
when, looking up to see the moon in all her splendor, 
I beheld a beautiful star looking down at me. 

“At first I thought it was looking at the whole 
garden, but then I knew all the others were asleep 
and I must be the one it was smiling at, for it twinkled 
and brightened as I gazed at it. 

“I lowered my head and slyly looked again, and 


THE STAR AND THE LILY 


IOI 


still the star was looking, and every time it saw me 
raise my head it would twinkle a smile at me. The 
next night I wanted to make sure it was I that the 
star really smiled at, and when it was bedtime I only 
bowed my head and did not sleep. 

“Then when the garden was still and I was sure 
you all slept I again raised my head and saw my 
star smiling straight down at me. 

“This time I was sure I was the only one that the 
star could be smiling at, and I raised my head and 
opened my petals and let all the perfume of my heart 
go up to him, and I did not feel that I was bold, for 
we were all alone and he smiled down upon me, his 
love for two nights. 

“But now I am sorrowful, for it is day and I cannot 
see my beloved. He seems only to show his love for 
me at night. What shall I do, dear rose? I am not 
strong enough to stay awake all day and all night 
too. Soon I will die if I do, and yet I cannot live iiw 
I do not see my star each night. That is why I sigh 
and look so sad, for I might sleep all night some time 
and my star will think I do not love him.” 

The rose shook her head. “I cannot advise you, 
my friend,’' she said; “you are in love with some one 
far above you, and are not even sure you are loved in 
return. Be wise and sleep through the night as the 
rest of us do, and give up this uncertain lover.” 

But the lily only drooped her head and sighed, and 
that night looked for her lover again, but the sky was 


102 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


dark and no bright smile greeted the poor lily. All 
night she gazed into the dark sky, and when the first 
light of day came she was still looking for her lover. 

The rose looked at her when the sun came upon 
them that morning, but the lily did not raise her 
head; she was too full of sorrow to lift her face to the 
sun, and by and by the rose saw that she was droop- 
ing lower and lower, so she spoke to her. 

“Lily,” she said, leaning closer to her, “raise your 
head and let the sun cheer you. You will die if you 
do not open your petals and get the light and air.” 

But the poor lily was past caring for sun or air; her 
petals were limp and her stalk withered. 

The rose leaned closer to her as she faintly an- 
swered, and this is what she heard: 

“Good-by, my friend; I shall bloom no more. My 
bright star hid his face from me last night and I 
have no desire to live longer. Perhaps I may see 
him after I am gone from here, and if that is true I 
shall be happy, but I cannot live here and not see his 
face.” 

The wind blew through the garden just then and 
took the lily from her stem, scattering her petals far 
out of the garden. 

“Poor lily!” murmured the rose, “she went the 
way we all will go, but her heart was broken and she 
died before her time. If she had only looked for love 
here in the garden instead of looking so far above her 
she might be blooming now, poor lily.” 



LAZY GRAY 


JL the other squirrels called him Lazy Gray, 



which was really not a very nice name for a 
squirrel to have, but it fitted this squirrel, and I am 
going to tell you how he came to be called by such 
an unpleasant name. 

When Lazy Gray was born there were three little 
squirrels in his family, but he was the youngest and 
his mother thought he was the prettiest, and all the 
rest of the family used to wait on him a great deal, 
and his mother did not ask him to do errands or to 
climb trees or any other of the hard tasks that most 
squirrels have to do. And Lazy Gray took advantage 
of the kindness of his mother and his brothers and sis- 
ter, and used to ask them to wait on him. When he 
was thirsty and wanted a drink of water he would 
call to his mother and say, “I am thirsty”; and she 
would take a nutshell and go down to the brook and 


104 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


fill it with nice cool water and bring it to him for him 
to drink. And sometimes he wouldn’t even say 
“Thank you” when he had finished. 

And he used to make his brothers go on long 
journeys through the woods to get a particular kind 
of nut of which he was very fond; and if they hap- 
pened to bring him one that was not good he would 
find fault with them and tell them that they did not 
know good nuts from bad ones. 

All through the summer he fooled away his time 
sleeping and lying in the sun and never a single nut did 
he gather for himself. But when fall came and his 
two brothers were taken ill, his mother said that he 
would have to help her gather nuts because she could 
not gather enough to last the whole family through 
all the long winter. Lazy thought it was very hard 
that he should be called upon to work for his brothers 
even if they were sick, and he complained very bit- 
terly about how hard it was for him to climb trees 
all day and store nuts. Whenever he could he stole 
away and lay down behind a rock and kept hidden 
until his mother came and found him. And then she 
would tell how, when it got cold and there was snow 
all over the ground and he was hungry, he would wish 
that he had been a good squirrel and had gathered 
the nuts while he could. 

But he did not believe her and said, “Oh, I have 
gathered all the nuts I shall want and am not going to 
work any more,” and then he would go to sleep again. 


LAZY GRAY 


105 


Weeks passed by, and it grew colder and colder and 
the snow came, and all the squirrels began to draw 
on their stores of nuts. Lazy found that he got pretty 
hungry sometimes and that the habit of eating and 
drinking all he wanted in the summer made him want 
to eat and drink all he wanted in the winter. And 
as he had never taught himself self-denial, he ate all 
he wanted, and very early in the winter he began to 
see that the nuts he had gathered would not last him 
half-way through the winter, and almost before he 
knew it his whole store was exhausted and he had 
nothing to eat. 

Then he asked his mother to let him have some 
of the nuts that she had gathered, and being a kind 
mother, she let him have just as many as she could, 
but she still had to keep some for his sick brothers. 
When she would not give him all he thought he ought 
to have he decided that he would go over to a neigh- 
boring tree and ask a squirrel over there for some of 
his nuts, and for weeks he went from one tree to 
another begging nuts, until every squirrel in the woods 
hated to see him coming, for they knew he was going 
to beg food that he should have gathered for himself. 

At last he became so much of a nuisance that all 
the squirrels in the wood held a meeting and decided 
that each one of them would give two nuts to “Lazy, ” 
as they now all called him, and that he would have to 
live for the rest of the winter on the store they con- 
tributed or else starve. 


io6 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


When Lazy saw what a small store of nuts he would 
have to live upon until spring he was frightened, for 
he had eaten almost as many nuts as there were there 
in a week. 

But he knew he had to make them last, so he ate 
very sparingly, and his sides began to be less plump 
and his cheeks less full, and by springtime he was a 
pretty sorry-looking squirrel, with his ribs showing 
plainly through his sides and his bushy tail looking 
bigger than the whole of the rest of him. 

But it taught him a good lesson, and early in the 
next summer, just as soon as there were any nuts to 
be had, he began to store them away, and when winter 
came again he had a big hole in the tree filled full and 
his mother was much pleased. 

“You see,” she told him, “how wicked it is not to 
provide for the future and store up things that are 
necessary against the time when you will need them.” 

And Lazy agreed with her and told her that never 
again so long as he lived would he merit the name of 
“Lazy.” 



THE OLD GRAY HEN 
H, dear!” said the Old Gray Hen, “what a life 



V-/ this is ! Up in the morning at the break of day 
in answer to the summons of that crowing rooster; 
scratch all the forenoon for worms; sit on a nest 
and leave a beautiful egg there, and in half an hour 
along comes somebody and takes the egg and I never 
see it again. Then every spring I am put on a lot of 
eggs that I never saw before and am supposed to 
sit there until a brood of chickens are hatched out, 
and then for weeks I have to scratch for them as 
well as for myself. I don’t see anything in this sort 
of life, and I propose to change it until it is more to 
my liking and more as the life of such a fine hen as 
I am ought to be.” 

Old Daddy Gander happened along just as the 
Gray Hen finished talking to herself. “What’s the 
trouble this morning?” he asked. “Why all this 
sputtering and spluttering? One would think that 


8 


108 THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 

the whole barnyard had turned upside down and the 
com had all fallen off into the sky.” 

“There’s matter enough,” said Gray Hen. “What 
have we fowls to live for? I scratch and you waddle 
and you waddle and I scratch, and what does it all 
amount to? Something has got to be done, and, if 
no one else will do it, why, I shall. Things are going 
to be different with me.” 

“I guess I’ll keep on as I am,” said old Daddy 
Gander as he waddled away. “I mighty make them 
worse than they are, and they are not so bad, any- 
way.” 

“Good morning, Gray Hen,” said Madam Duck. 
“ What a fine day we are going to have! The water 
will be nice and warm for my ducklings, and I can 
give them a good swim in the pond.” 

“It is neither a good morning nor is it going to be 
a fine day, and as for swimming in the pond, if I had 
to mother a lot of children with as homely feet as 
your brood has I would want to keep them in the 
water all the time so that no one would see them.” 

“What a mean disposition Gray Hen has!” said 
Madam Duck to the turkey gobbler as she went on 
her way to the pond. “I tried to be agreeable to 
her and she insulted me and spoke so unkindly of my 
children that I felt quite like crying.” 

“ I almost wish that she had been a little more un- 
kind,” said the gobbler, “for I have never seen a duck 
crying and I imagine it might be an almost amusing 


THE OLD GRAY HEN 


109 


sight. Perhaps Gray Hen needs some of my good 
advice, and I will walk over shortly and see her." 

But the old gobbler was saved his trouble, for in a 
few minutes he saw Gray Hen coming down the path 
toward him. As she came up to him he said : “What 
a miserable feeling morning this, Mrs. Hen; my 
feathers will none of them lie straight, and every 
worm that I have tasted for breakfast has been bitter.’ * 

“You are quite right,’’ said Gray Hen. “It is 
just like all the mornings recently, uncomfortable and 
disagreeable, and there does not seem to be any 
promise of anything better.” 

“You are quite right,” said the gobbler. “What 
the gander and the duck see in the present to be so 
satisfied with I don’t understand, and as to the future, 
I don’t know why we should expect any more of that 
than the past.” 

“ I have always felt,” said Gray Hen, “that you, Mr. 
Gobbler, never got half your deserts in this barn- 
yard. Everybody seems to think that the rooster, 
because he crows every morning at sunup, is the 
wisest bird in the yard, but as for me, I have always 
held you in greater esteem and have often spoken 
of the nobility of your looks and the regal way in 
which you walk about the place. If I had any voice 
in the matter I should suggest that you be recognized 
as superior to the rooster. But, you see, the hens 
have nothing to say, although some day I feel sure 
that it will be different.” 


no 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


“You are very kind,” said the gobbler, “and I 
feel as you do, while I have no wish to be ruler of the 
yard, that the hens should have more to say. You 
should at least have independence and do as you 
like.” 

“Oh, I have determined on that already,” said 
Gray Hen, and she told him how she had decided to 
lay no more eggs and to scratch as little as she had to. 

“Well,” said the gobbler, “I must be off and see 
that none of those turkey hens get so far into the 
wood that they cannot find their way back again. 

I certainly gave the kind of advice she wanted,” he. 
said, when he had got out of her hearing, “and that 
was easier than getting into an argument. And, be- 
sides that, discontented people and animals are 
always so much more comfortable if they think, 
others are just as unhappy as they are.” 

Old Gray Hen, however, was as good as her word. 
She stopped laying eggs and the amount of gravel 
that she scratched was scarcely worth mentioning. 
She stole worms from the younger chickens, who were 
too polite to punish a hen so old as she was, and, 
altogether, she became a general nuisance to all the 
rest of the barnyard flock. 

They could not protect themselves, but Farmer 
Johnson, walking through the yard one day, noticed 
that the Old Gray Hen’s toes had grown to a most 
unusual length. “I guess she doesn’t do much 
scratching,” he said as he passed along, “and I sus- 


THE OLD GRAY HEN 


in 


pect she doesn't lay many eggs. I must ask mother 
about it when I get back to the house.” 

“No,” said Mother Johnson, when he asked her, 
“I haven’t found an egg in Gray Hen’s nest for a 
month or more.” 

“She won’t pay to winter, then,” said Farmer 
Johnson. “We had better eat her.” And the fol- 
lowing Sunday, when Farmer Johnson sat down for 
dinner, they brought a big platter of steaming fricassee 
to the table and that was the end of Old Gray Hen. 

A day or two after, when the gobbler happened to 
meet Madam Duck, she said: “ I hear that Gray Hen 
has left us.” 

“Yes,” said the gobbler, “and I hope she is happier 
than she was here, but her contentment was greatest 
when others were distressed.” 



THE WORSTED DOLL 

G OOD Mother Munster and her husband Jacob 
had five daughters. Of course they loved them 
dearly, but they often wished for a son. 

“Then he could help me in the shop,” said Jacob, 
who was a maker of dolls. “Not that I would ex- 
change one of our girls for a boy,” he added, “but 
I wish we had a son as well as the five girls.” 

Whether the stork heard this talk between Jacob 
and his wife and took offense because they questioned 
his judgment, or whether he thought Jacob and 
his wife had their number of children, I do not 
know; but he never called again at their door and 
their daughters grew up to womanhood without a 
brother. 

One day Jacob hurried in from his shop, which was 
back of his house. He was very much excited, and 


THE WORSTED DOLL 


n 3 

talked so fast that good Mother Munster could not 
understand half he said. 

“They want worsted dolls,” he explained at. last, 
“two dozen worsted dolls to be sent across the water 
in time for Christmas.” 

Jacob raised his hands with a gesture of despair, 
for at his shop they did not make worsted dolls, and 
he could not understand why any one should want 
them. 

“There is plenty of time to make them,” Mother 
Munster said. “The girls and I can knit them, and 
we will make half of them girls and half of them boy 
dolls.” And so the knitted dolls were begun by good 
Mother Munster and her daughters. 

One day when Mother Munster was knitting on 
the last doll, which was a boy, she began to think 
how much she would miss them when they were 
finished and sent across the sea. 

“ I will make you extra large,” she said as she added 
a few stitches to the length and breadth of the doll, 
“and if I could I would knit you a tongue so you 
could talk‘ and legs that you could run on, and have 
you like a live boy.” 

Mother Munster knitted as she thought, and 
though she did not know it, she knitted all her wishes 
into the boy doll’s body, so that when he was finished 
he could do all the things she had wished. 

But he was a wise little fellow, and did not betray 
himself for fear he would not be shipped across the 


H4 THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 

water with the other dolls, and he wanted to see the 
world. 

It was a long journey to the other side of the ocean, 
and the boy doll thought it never would end. But 
by and by he was taken from the big packing-case 
and with other dolls placed in a window of a big shop. 

“I wish some one would speak to me,” thought 
the boy doll, but not a word did the other dolls 
utter, and as he did not wish to appear forward he 
kept silent also. 

One day a lady came into the store and carried 
Boy Doll away with her, and then one night he was 
put on a tree trimmed with glittering ropes of tinsel. 

A little girl came into the room after a while, and 
when she saw Boy Doll she exclaimed, “Oh, I hope 
the boy doll is for me!” 

“So do I,” thought Boy Doll, “for I am sure you 
will talk to me.” 

And sure enough he was given to the little girl. 
“I am so glad you were for me,” she told him, “for 
I do need a father for my doll family.” 

“Dear me,” thought Boy Doll, “what a respon- 
sibility to be forced upon me so suddenly!” And not 
a word could he speak in reply to the little girl, be- 
cause he was so surprised. 

The little girl took him into a large room, which 
was the home of her doll family. 

“This is your husband, Rosamond,” she said to a 
large French doll, “and his name is Theodore. And 


THE WORSTED DOLL 


115 

this is your father,” she told a group of small dolls; 
‘‘he has come to live with you. 

“I hope you will be a good father to them,” she 
said to Theodore. But Boy Doll was so overcome 
that his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth and he 
was silent. 

Theodore, as we may call him now, was placed in a 
large arm-chair, and the little girl left him with his 
family. 

His grand-looking wife held her head very high 
and cast a look of disdain at poor Theodore, for she 
was not pleased to have a worsted doll for a husband, 
and the children, following the example of their 
mother, looked at their new father and giggled. 

“Oh, why did I leave good Mother Munster?” 
thought Theodore. ‘ ‘ She wanted a son and she would 
have loved me.” 

He sat very still for a while. He was thinking 
what he should do; he knew that as the father of a 
family he should be respected, and here were his 
children laughing at him. 

If it were not for the haughty French wife he 
might exert his authority, but Theodore was a little 
afraid of her. 

“I’ll begin with the children,” he said at last, “and 
that may impress Rosamond.” 

So while the children were giggling and whispering 
Theodore suddenly jumped up from his chair. 

Of course he was very stiff in his movements, as he 


n6 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


did not have any joints, and the children laughed out 
and said, “Our father hasn’t any joints in his legs.” 

The stem look on Theodore’s face soon quieted 
them, however, and by the time he reached them 
they were quite afraid. Theodore cleared his throat 
and put his hands behind him. 

“It is very evident,” he said, “that you need a 
father, for your manners are shockingly bad. What 
is your name?” he asked, taking one of them by the 
shoulder. 

“Etta,” she answered. 

“And yours?” he said, pointing to another. 

“May,” was the reply. 

“And yours, and yours, and yours, and yours, and 
yours, and yours?” he asked, receiving in turn the 
names of Sally, Freda, Maude, Cora, Dora, and Ida. 

“I shall divide you into two groups of four each,” 
he said, after hearing the names. “One will be the 
Etta-May-Sally-Freda group, and the other will be 
the Maude-Cora-Dora-Ida group. That will simplify 
matters for me, and I can talk to four at one time. 
Ettamaysallyfreda,” he called. 

“Yes, father,” answered all four at once. 

“ If I ever hear you giggle again as you did when I 
appeared I shall punish you severely.” 

“Yes, sir,” answered the trembling dolls. 

“ Maudecoradoraida,” said Theodore, in a stern 
voice. 

“Yes, father,” answered the second group. 


THE WORSTED DOLL 


117 

“If you behave again in the manner you did when 
I first came to this house you will be punished in a 
way you will remember.” 

“Yes, sir,” answered the four dolls. 

Theodore turned away and with all the dignity he 
could muster walked toward his wife. 

Rosamond’s head was not held so high now, for 
her husband’s manner with the children had shown 
her that he intended to be master in his home. 

“When do we dine?” he asked. 

“We have no regular hour,” she answered. 

“We will dine at seven,” said Theodore; “break- 
fast at eight ; the hour for lunch you may please your- 
self about, as I shall not be here. The children will 
not dine with us,” he added. ‘ ‘And now I should like 
to see my room.” 

Rosamond, who was as completely subdued as the 
children, very meekly did as she was told, and Theo- 
dore found himself master without any further trouble. 

But he could not forget good Mother Munster, and 
while he knew he should be content in the bosom of 
his family, he found his thoughts often with Mother 
Munster, across the water. 

It was not an easy matter being the father of a 
family. If he felt like jumping or lying on the floor, 
there were the children, and he must not lose his 
dignity for a moment. “I would rather be a son,” 
he said, “than be the father of a family. If I could 


n8 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


get back to Germany and good Mother Munster I 
should be quite happy.” 

Of course this was not the proper feeling for a hus- 
band and father to have, but you must remember 
that Theodore had all this thrust upon him before 
he had any of the joys of boyhood. 

One day he heard the family where he lived talking 
about going abroad, and saw the big trunks being 
packed. 

‘‘Oh dear,” thought Theodore, ‘‘I wonder if they 
will take me with them. Perhaps they will go to 
Germany where the good Mother Munster lives.” 

And then Theodore thought a very wicked thought. 
‘‘I will get into one of the trunks and hide,” he said, 
‘‘and if I can find the German village where Mother 
Munster lives I will not come back to be the father of 
a family, but I will stay with good Mother Munster 
and be her little boy.” 

Of course that was deserting his family, but Theo- 
dore did not know anything about how wrong that 
was, and so one day when he was left alone in the 
room with the trunks he climbed over the side of 
one of them and hid himself between the folds of a 
dress, without saying good-by to his wife or children. 

Theodore did not feel safe until the men came for 
the trunks, and then his heart leaped for joy. After 
a long time the trunks were opened in a hotel, and 
Theodore wondered what they would say when they 
found him. 


THE WORSTED DOLL 


119 

“Here is Theodore,” said the mother to her little 
girl, when she found him inside her dresses. “I 
wonder how he got in my trunk.” 

The little girl had not brought any of her dolls 
and she was so pleased to see Theodore that she 
hugged him. 

Theodore felt guilty when he thought of what he 
intended to do, but his love for Mother Munster was 
deeper than that for his family. 

After many weeks of visiting different places, 
Theodore had almost given up hope of seeing Mother 
Munster again, when one day he heard them say, 
“We will go to Berlin to-morrow.” 

4 ‘ Berlin, Berlin, ’ ’ repeated Theodore. ‘ ‘ Where have 
I heard that name before? ” Then all at once it came 
to him that it was in Germany and that not far from 
there was the village where Mother Munster lived. 

He could hardly keep from jumping for joy. 

One morning after they had been in Berlin for a 
week the father of the little girl said, “We are to 
visit a little village to-day where they make dolls.” 

“I will take Theodore,” said the little girl, “for 
I want to get a girl doll just like him.” 

They rode quite a distance on the train, and then 
in a carriage, and stopped at a house that made 
Theodore’s heart thump so loudly that he feared they 
would hear it, for the house was the home of good 
Mother Munster, and there standing in the doorway 
was the dear old lady herself. 


120 


THE SANDMAN’S HOUR 


They went into the kitchen and the little girl put 
Theodore on a chest which stood in the room. 

In the excitement of seeing the doll-shop she forgot 
to take him with her, and as soon as Theodore found 
himself alone he slipped off the chest and hid behind it. 

When the little girl came back from the shop she had 
a large doll in her arms and she quite forgot Theodore. 

A few days after, when Mother Munster was clean- 
ing her kitchen, she moved the chest, and there was 
Theodore with his arms stretched up toward her. 

Mother Munster picked him up. “Why, it is my 
boy!” she said. “How ever did you get here?” she 
asked. Then she thought of the little girl. “I hope 
she does not send for you,” she said, and she held 
Theodore tightly in her arms. 

“So do I,” said Theodore, and although he did not 
speak out loud Mother Munster seemed to understand. 

“You’d rather live here, hadn’t you?” she asked. 
“I will put you on this seat in the corner and you 
shall be my little boy. All the girls have gone to 
homes of their own, and Jacob and I are very lonely. 

“Look, Jacob,” she said as he came in the door, 
“here is the worsted doll I made to send across the 
water. He has come back to live with us, and so at 
last we have a son.” 

. Jacob smiled. He didn’t think much of worsted 
dolls, but he took Theodore by one hand. “You 
have traveled a long distance, son,” he said, “since 
you left here, and can tell Mother Munster and me 


THE WORSTED DOLL 


1 2 1 


all about what you have seen as we three sit by the 
fire in the long winter evenings.” And so Theodore 
found a mother and father and lived a happy and 
peaceful life undisturbed by the cares of a family. 

But sometimes he dreams and awakens himself by 
calling, “Ettamaysallyfreda,” or “ Maudecoradora- 
ida.” And 'Mien he makes sure it is only a dream he 
turns over and goes to sleep again with a smile of 
contentment on his face which plainly says, “Theo- 
dore, you are a lucky man.” 


THE END 


























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